


Little Lords of Loyalty

by Ser_Alexander_Peverell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, Badass Harry, Depression, Dumbledore Bashing, Dyslexia, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hermione Bashing, Intelligent Harry, Lord Harry, M/M, Molly Weasley Bashing, Political Harry, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Sane Tom Riddle, Smart Ron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Alexander_Peverell/pseuds/Ser_Alexander_Peverell
Summary: A tweak tweak there and a tweak tweak here, there tweak, here a tweak, everywhere a tweak tweak.What if Harry was just a little smarter than in the books? What if Dumbledore was more openly a manipulative bastard? What if Harry didn't look like is father? What if Ron was a good friend and had a learning disability? What if the Dark Lord could be healed? What if the prejudices of the Dark were echoed by the light? What if?Basically a what if story I wanted to read and never seemed to be able to find so I wrote my own. It's my first foray into writing fanfiction so I'd love to hear what you think.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Rabastan Lestrange
Comments: 28
Kudos: 413
Collections: Dark n Light Pairings





	1. Every Tale Has A Beginning

Chapter One

Abuse, such a thought provoking and somewhat horrifying word. It was one Harry knew the meaning of long before he’d ever heard the word itself. A single word and yet it meant so much, formulated so much of who he was. In simple terms abuse meant ‘to misuse’ but when had Harry’s life ever been simple?

Harry was one when his parents died, he was three when he understood what being dead meant, and he was five when he stopped wishing his parents were alive and began wishing he was dead instead. It wasn’t until shortly after he turned eight that he stopped thinking about death and turned instead to think about life. His life.

For a boy who had only ever thought about death thinking about life was difficult. How could it be any less so when eight-year-old Harry had never truly lived? So Harry watched, and Harry learned and Harry vowed to live, throwing everything he was into doing so. So much was his determination that he tightly controlled everything that would put his goal in danger, including his accidental magic, instead of outward flashy incidents that had occurred before, it was pushed and channeled towards his goal, helping silently.

Still, despite magic, known or not, abuse and a morbid sense of morality marked and shaped young Harry’s life, making him a rather mature and intelligent boy used to hiding things behind masks and acts. Harry knew that he would never be able to do more than survive in his relative’s house and at the tender age of eight began to seriously contemplate the logistics of running away. Now Harry, no matter what the Dursley’s may have liked to believe, was the not the stupid boy they forced him to act in school. That’s not to say he was a genius or gifted in extreme amounts of intelligence, but he was above average in certain areas. Coupled with stubbornness and a determination to be self sufficient, Harry certainly found a way to thrive. 

According to all of the information that he could gather there were a few ways he could escape the Dursley’s, each with their own set of pro’s and cons. The first, he could as he’d contemplated a great many times, simply run away, and pretend not to know who were the Dursley’s were when he was inevitably picked up by the truancy officers, due to the laws that demanded he attend school until he was fourteen. 

Unfortunately, with as little supplies and money that he could put together it was unlikely that he would be able to get out of Little Whinging and although the town boasted a population of eight thousand people it wouldn’t take long for the authorities to trace where he came from. Likely via the very school who’s library he conducted much of his research in. He’d swiftly be dragged back and the most likely effect was that the Dursley’s would treat him even worse than they already did. With his new found will to live he could admit that it was unlikely that he would survive an increase in daily abuse, which screwed the whole purpose of running away in the first place. There were also other factors. If he did manage to get away he’d be put in an orphanage. 

Rather than trusting Uncle Vernon’s assessment of orphanages Harry had once again done his own research. Unfortunately Uncle Vernon was likely correct in his beliefs, at least according to the most recent statistics and reports Harry was able to find using rudimentary searches on the big library computer. The majority of the orphanages in his immediate area were overcrowded and underfunded. Adoption rates were at an all time low, apparently due to things called economic volatility and unemployment rates, and the government’s attempt to control inflation. Harry understood very little beyond the fact that an orphanage would be little better than his current location, although it could change as all reports said the economy was slowly picking up, he had no wish to be under the care of people who could possibly abuse him just as much or perhaps more than the Dursleys already did. Harry wondered how they could tell the economy was getting better, but figured that maybe one day when he understood more he’d be able to tell too.

His second option was to report the Dursleys. He knew however simply reporting them would not be enough. He would need evidence. The one and only time children’s social services had checked in on him, due to a tip from the young teacher who taught Harry and Dudley’s First Year class, they had easily been subverted by the Dursleys. There was also the fact that at the time Harry had refused to speak of what was happening, still too obsessed with wishing to die and cowed by the Dursley’s to actually confess as to his experience. Even if he did get this evidence however he would once again end up in an orphanage, and so, the second idea was scrapped. 

The third and final option Harry found was to have himself emancipated, the drawback however was that he would have to wait until he was sixteen and would have to prove that he had both the physical and financial means to take care of himself, else the government would take over his care if his current guardian’s, the Dursley’s were found inadequate. 

In the end, Harry decided to mash options two and three together. There was of course a forth option. He could find a person who was willing to take over his guardianship and convince the Dursley’s to sign over responsibility. But with some thought Harry realized that as a child who was thought to be a menace and budding criminal, given the Dursley’s tall tales, the only ones who would be willing to take over his guardianship would likely be worse, and probably abusers in their own right. 

Therefore shortly before his ninth birthday, only days before school ended for his year three Harry began to document his abuse, having looked up everything he could on the subject to be sure that he did so correctly. A disposable camera was just under ten pounds at the local superstore, and in cleaning Dudley’s room Harry was easily able to spirit that much away. As long as he never took a large amount each time the boy didn’t even notice, so even after Harry got enough to purchase the little camera he continued his gathering. 

In his mind, though he knew it wouldn’t be enough, he was gathering money for the future as he’d eventually have to prove financial means if he hoped to escape his relatives, even if it was almost seven years in the future before he’d be able to. So far, in a little cigarette tin that he’d found in Dudley’s playroom that the other boy had once used to hold collectable cards until he’d gotten bored, Harry had collected just under three hundred pounds in a few short months as well as a weird golden coin that a strange man in a top hat and a dressy looking coat had given him upon seeing him walking home from school. Though Harry was happy to take the money, even as strange it was for the next three weeks he’d taken a different route home even though it had added an additional ten minutes on to his walk. Ten minutes he was punished for. 

This did however allow Harry to stop at a little corner shop that Harry was absolutely certain his aunt and uncle never shopped at, given it was owned by an older Indian fellow, to change his smaller coins into bigger denominations as to better fit in the little cigarette box once Harry had returned to his original route, since the Dursleys had become used to his new routine and the amount of time it took him to get home. 

Several times over Harry had to purchase a new disposable camera and develop the film, dipping into the little cache he was building. He always made sure to use the little self-service machine even though he was barely tall enough to reach it. Had he used the desk service to get the film developed not only would it cost more but there was certain to be questions asked when whomever was working saw the photos. 

Harry had taken pictures of his body after several of his ‘punishments’. There was little else he could get pictures of without alerting anyone he was doing so, though he did get a few of his cupboard as well as each of the bedrooms upstairs, in hopes that when he did finally have the opportunity to do so he could prove that Dursleys had the means to provide him with what would be considered suitable living quarters but simply elected not to do so. That’s not to say he didn’t like his cupboard, though he hated being locked in it for extended lengths of time, but it was much easier to hide his ill-gotten gains and slowly accumulating proof in its legal envelope and cigarette tin in the shadows at the bottom most portion of the stairs, than it would be in a wide open room, that could easily be searched. 

Despite wishing to save as much as possible Harry had begun allocating a small portion of money each week to spend on food and water. He never ate such things at the school, instead subsiding on the apple and buttered bread that his aunt allowed him in order to ensure that no one looked to closely at him, as they would if he had no food at all. On his way home, in that little corner store, he’d purchase a box of granola bars and open them, stuffing the bars into his overly large pockets to smuggle into his cupboard since he got very little over the weekends. He purchased three water bottles and made sure to keep them filled in his cupboard, doing so using the bathroom faucet when he was let out to see to his bathroom needs before being hurried back to the cupboard. Occasionally when he managed to pull in a little extra money, about once every month the night after Uncle Vernon went to the pub with colleagues as Harry collected about a quarter to a third of the extra cash in Vernon’s pockets when he did the laundry the next morning, Harry would purchase a bit of jerky to store away as a treat in his little cupboard, and a small single sized carton of milk he could drink quickly and throw away before leaving the store. And so from a young age Harry knew the meaning behind abuse, specifically, child abuse, emotional abuse and physical abuse.

By the time Harry turned eleven he had a not inconsiderable nest egg of well over fifteen hundred pounds and a well honed and practiced routine. The day began like any other, only when Harry went to collect the mail there was a letter for him. Slipping it underneath the cupboard door with a quick kick Harry barely even paused drawing no attention to it. In fact when he finally returned to his cupboard after finishing the last of his chores shortly after the dinner dishes Harry had forgotten all about it. Using the little bit of light from the vents of the cupboard Harry managed to read the letter. 

Harry wondered for all of three seconds if it was a joke. Thinking about it logically however he swiftly realized that such a thing was unlikely, due to the fact that the letter was in fact addressed to the cupboard under the stairs and only the Dursleys knew he lived there and none of them would ever pull such a thing as this. This realization made him think back to anything strange he had ever done that could possibly constitute as magic. He came up with three, the first when his Year One teacher’s hair had suddenly turned a vividly neon blue whilst she’d been berating him for not bringing in his homework. 

Technically he had brought his homework in, only Dudley had signed his name to it and handed it in himself. The second instance was when he had found himself on the schools roof when Dudley and his little gang had taken to chasing him for Harry Hunting, and the third when Aunt Petunia had cut his hair in a frankly outrageous way that had Harry wondering what she truly hoped to achieve as it only would have drawn more attention to him and the scar she was so desperately trying to hide instead of away from it. It had all grown back the next day much to her disappointment and Harry’s pleasure. It had been short-lived pleasure when she shoved that god-awful orange puffball sweater on him three short weeks later, though he could say it was warm and cozy for all that it was hideous. 

Harry Hunting had been a short-lived game for Dudley’s little gang. Harry had quickly realized that the five boys, including his cousin enjoyed the fact that he ran and feared them. It had only taken six beatings where Harry simply refused to run, scream, or beg the entire time they kicked and hit at him for the boys to decide it wasn’t all that fun anymore. Still Harry wondered what made his magic, if the letter was truly to be believed, react those three times and not any other. It was then that he realized that all three events had occurred before his decision to try living instead of wishing to die. 

It was then that he realized that that might have been the only times he remembered really seeing something that could count as magic, but there were a few times that he had counted as luck, like the well dressed man who’d dropped his wallet, even though it was in his zippered coat pocket. Harry had pointed it out to the man and he’d been given a twenty-pound note. Then there were all the times he was able to collect coins on his walk home from school, not often more than a pound, maybe two but still, enough that it was unlikely to be occurring more than thrice weekly as it had been. 

Since he couldn’t immediately respond to the letter, one as he was locked in the cupboard for the night, and two as he had no idea just what ‘we await your owl’ meant, Harry began to wonder exactly what else he could do with his magic. Sitting on his little cot, Harry began doing exactly as he had with every problem he encountered for the last three and some years, he did his best to recall all the information he had on magic. 

He knew he didn’t have near enough to understand what being a wizard, as the letter said he was, however he did have enough to make a few educated guesses and as his science teacher would say several hypothesis to be proven or disproven. The first which he discarded, was a theory that had been propagated by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, that magic was the work of the devil and witches were people who made deals with the devil to work evil magics. Harry had never made any deals with devils or otherwise therefore that theory could not be true. 

The spare few books he had read that had anything to do with magic and people using it all had different ideas about where it came from. One of them it came from a magic wand, another from a ring and another because she was an elf or something or other. Harry quickly ruled all three options out as he didn’t look anything different than any other human, he didn’t have a ring, and although a wand was on his list he had already done magic without any kind of wand. 

Therefore Harry came to the conclusion that somehow he had the magic inside of him. That meant that if he could figure out how he should be able to use it. So Harry tried, and tried, and tried, and nothing happened. Slowly and surely going through various theories and hypothesis Harry figured out that he could do magic by visualizing what he wanted and by for a lack of any other description that he could think of, pulling what he imagined was his magic in the center of his chest. He exhausted himself that night only to wake at his aunt’s screech.

From Harry’s understanding, by listening to his Aunt and Uncles whispers, two more letters had come for Harry and his Aunt had seen them. They both were addressed to the cupboard under the stairs and Harry was told he would immediately be moving into Dudley’s second bedroom. Harry used Dudley’s temper tantrum as an opportunity to move his more delicate things unnoticed into his new room, hiding them in the only place he could find a loose floorboard in the corner of the room almost underneath the bed but not quite. 

For the next week, as Harry still had no idea just how to reply to the letter that had been sent he practiced his magic, and he made plans. It was a little more difficult when doing his chores but then he realized perhaps it could help with his chores. He of course made sure not to do so when any of the Dursleys were looking but the weeding only took him five minutes, though he had to replant Aunt Petunia’s tulips twice when he accidently pulled them out with his magic alongside the weeds. The letters kept coming and Harry was unsure why. They sent him one already and if they were worried that he wasn’t answering wouldn’t it be better to send someone to find out why instead of sending more letters? It was the logical thing. 

Either way Harry was going to enact his plan. If everything worked he may just have the freedom he needed to live in this house without anymore abuse. That didn’t however mean he wasn’t leaving as soon as it was feasible. 

Finally it was Sunday. As Harry set out breakfast for the Dursley’s Uncle Vernon who had slowly been going spar over the letters seemed quite content, an went as far as to declare Sunday his favorite day simply because there was no post.

Of course his words were far to soon as letters began shooting in from the fireplace and the mail slot the mument breakfast was finished. Uncle Vernon turned purple.

“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THOSE FREAKS DISTURBING US NORMAL PEOPLE” Vernon shouted. The angry release did nothing to help his color. 

“Perhaps they wish for me to respond,” Harry said mildly fighting not to flinch when all three Dursley’s turned their attention to him. He had magic now, and although he couldn’t do much he had tried to see if he could make a shield to stop things from touching him. It had worked but he could only do it for a minute, and if formed a hard bubble around him that worked both ways and allowed nothing to get through. When he tried to pick up one of Dudley’s broken toys he couldn’t touch it and the bubble had in fact pushed it further away. That had prompted him to practice what he understood was called telekinesis. That had been even easier than the shield. He hoped with the use of both abilities he could fend off whatever the Dursleys tried to throw at him but he had yet to actually try.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY BOY?” Vernon shouted. Harry forced himself to keep calm and not cower. Keeping his voice as steady as he could Harry answered.

“I said, perhaps they wish for me to respond, after all, they have quite insistently continued sending the letters. Besides, it says Hogwarts is a boarding school, would you not prefer me to be gone for the majority of the year?” Harry asked.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HOGWARTS BOY?” Vernon yelled as Aunt Petunia ushered Dudley out the front door to go find his friend Piers. 

“Quite simple really, it was in the letter,” Harry answered. Aunt Petunia looked as equally as contrite as Uncle Vernon when she heard Harry’s words as she returned.

“We made damn sure you never saw a single one of the letters,” Aunt Petunia hissed. 

“You attempted too,” Harry said. “Quite a bit of effort went into it on your parts I suspect. You were however a little late in the game as I got my hands on the first one. I believe we need to have a little talk,” Harry said firmly doing his best to sound more in control than he felt he was. 

“WE CERTIANLY DO BOY!” Vernon said reaching out to grab Harry. As fast as he could Harry forced the shield into place and Vernon quickly backed up upon seeing the luminescent but see through bubble that formed around Harry even as his Aunt squeaked. Harry let the bubble drop when Uncle Vernon was far enough away doing his best not to show just how tired it had made him. 

“Perhaps it would be best if we all sit and have a proper conversation?” Harry tried for diplomatic. 

“WE CERTIANLY WILL NOT BE BOY!” Vernon shouted. Harry thought it almost ironic. Instead of replying Harry pointed his finger at coffee mug that was on the table and used his magic to lift and then throw it against the wall. 

“Yes Uncle, we will,” Harry said, before promptly sitting in one of the chairs before his legs could give out and show just how much effort those few things had taken. “So sit and we can get this over quickly before Dudley returns.” It wasn’t hard to catch on to the fact that they obviously did not want Dudley having anything to do with this given how quickly his Aunt had ushered his cousin out the door. Both his Aunt and Uncle sat. 

“Good,” Harry said. “Now I will tell you the conclusions I have come too over the past week and then we will get to what you both know. Does that work for everyone?” Nobody nodded, Harry didn’t care, “Well I suppose I don’t much care for your opinions anyways. Number one, I am a wizard, I don’t believe either of you can deny that. Two, I will be attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Harry continued. 

“Now see here boy,” Uncle Vernon began but Harry cut him off by sliding one of the plates across the length of the table.

“I shall not see here,” Harry said. “And to make sure we understand each other very clearly, should you attempt to stop me or subvert my going to Hogwarts in anyway, I will make sure each and every picture of my wounds after you punished me finds its way to the local papers and to the neighbors and even to your boss. I am done being abused. Had this letter not come you would have found yourselves arrested on my sixteenth birthday when I filed charges as well as for emancipation. I highly doubt that in the face of such proof you could talk your way out of that. And yes I will be keeping the photos with me, I could provide you with copies should you wish so you understand just what kind of situation you’re in and who truly holds the power,” Harry said.

“BOY!” Vernon went to stand but Aunt Petunia pulled him down and whispered in his ear. It certainly didn’t calm Vernon, his face still purple and his neck bulging but he remained sitting. 

“What do you want from us,” Aunt Petunia asked resignedly. 

“You know of this wizarding world,” Harry began, seeing his aunt about to deny it he continued. “There is no point in lying, I highly doubt you would condone abusing my even with your very obviously racist views and my slightly darker skin had you not already known something of magic and my likely ability in it.” Petunia flushed red. “Now I would like to know what you know.”

“I don’t know much,” Aunt Petunia said. “Your mother was a fre..witch, and she went to that school. I know where she picked up her supplies and where she caught the train, little more.” 

“Do you know how I reply to the letter?” Harry asked. Aunt Petunia shook her head. 

“They use owls to deliver letters but a teacher delivered your mother’s letter,” Aunt Petunia answered. 

“I assume there are owls where the supplies are?” Harry asked. Petunia nodded. “Well as I need a letter in order to reply and also need to purchase my supplies, and you are the only one who knows where to go as I don’t have a teacher here, it would seem that you will be the one taking me.”

“I will not,” Petunia said petulantly. 

“Mrs. Tempest in number six is still a column writer correct?” Harry said mildly, he knew she still wrote for the column, it was all her and his Aunt’s friends talked about when they came over for tea. “Perhaps she’d like the honor of writing my story? She’s only down the road, it would be easy enough to get her the pictures.” Harry was certainly not above a little blackmail. Even if the Dursleys called his bluff it wasn’t as though Harry wasn’t going to eventually use the evidence anyway. It would certainly be a pain to be under the government’s guardianship however, so he hoped they would not. 

“I will take you,” Petunia said quickly.

“Pet!” Vernon tried to protest.

“No Vernon,” Petunia said, “We must, think of Dudley.” Vernon huffed and said he was going out for a pint. 

“We should go today if you do not wish to receive anymore letters,” Harry said mildly. 

“Very well,” Petunia said. “I shall grab my purse, but I shall not be paying for any such supplies.” Harry nodded. He would have to find some place within the magical world where he could inquire as to if there were scholarship funds he could utilize. If not he did have his stolen savings, though he hoped he’d not have to use them. While Harry moved slowly he did his best not to give away how weak his legs were. It helped that he was so excited. 

Once up the stairs he dressed in the best of Dudley’s old clothes. It was an outfit that Dudley’s Aunt Marge had purchased him for Christmas two years ago and had been far to small for the boy to wear even once. Still that made it much to large for Harry, yet they fit better than anything else he had. Pulling on the large black slacks Harry used the bobby pins that were holding some of his other clothes together to make them fit a little better before rolling the hems a little. The pants sat low on his hips but since the deep burgundy jumper was overlarge it covered everything the pants didn’t. Using the strips of an old shirt Harry tied the little cigarette case to his belly underneath his shirt as he often did when he had to take it out of it’s hiding place to purchase something. Despite his new understanding with the Dursleys it was a habit. After a mument of deliberation he removed the envelope with the picture evidence of the Dursleys abuse and slipped it beside the cigarette case. There was a good chance that Vernon would rip apart this room the mument he and Aunt Petunia were gone to look for it for all he said he was going to the pub. 

Harry had not been expecting the run down pub for an entrance to the magical wizarding world, however he supposed that was rather the point. Nonetheless Petunia led him through the pub, obviously trying to avoid looking at everyone and everything. When they reached the back and there was only a brick wall Harry was confused. 

“The teacher hit a bunch of bricks with her wand and it opened up,” Petunia said waving her hand at the wall. Harry scrutinized the wall, before trying to send his magic at it to find the bricks he had to touch, he wasn’t one hundred percent certain it would work but it couldn’t hurt to try. Several bricks lit up and he reach up to touch them with his finger pushing a little magic at each one as he touched them. The wall opened up and he gaped. It was beautiful. 

“Come,” Petunia said. “That building down there is the bank, your mother had an account there, it’s run by gremlin things you can talk to them.” Harry nodded and followed as Aunt Petunia hurried down the path. The bank was beautiful and fearsome with it’s carved warning and armored and armed guards. As they entered Harry let out another deep breath of wonder. Everything was a beautiful white and gold and expensive looking. Idly he followed his Aunt into a line. 

“And what is it you want us to do for you today?” said a snarly voice. Harry looked up broken out of his wonder. 

“Sorry sir, I meant no disregard by not paying attention,” Harry said. Looking at the short creature. “I came in today, because my Aunt said that my mother once had an account here. Is there a way to see if she still does? And if she does, am I able to access it as her son since she is dead? If not is there someone I can speak to about scholarship funding for Hogwarts?” Harry asked. The creature humphed.

“Name?” it asked. 

“Mine or my mother’s sir?” Harry asked. 

“Both,” the creature snarled.

“Harry sir, Harry Potter, I am unaware of my middle name,” Harry said. 

“James,” Aunt Petunia piped up. “Harrison James Potter is his full legal name, and his mother was Lily Potter nee Evans.” The goblin looked incredulous. 

“You are Harrison James Potter?” the goblin asked as though to be sure he heard correctly. 

“Yes sir,” Harry said. 

“And you do not know of your accounts?” the goblin asked. 

“No sir,” Harry said frowning, “Until earlier this week I was unaware that magic even existed. Had my Aunt and Uncle had their way I would still be unaware. Aunt Petunia sneered at him. 

“Very well, if you’ll both follow me, we’ll confirm this and continue on from there. They followed the creature across the lobby and into a side hallway. Various wooden doors lined either side, names on plaques affixed to them. From what Harry could tell they were in alphabetical order, as he could see Abbot then Alderton on the opposite side then Alton and Alves then Avery, and then the B’s started with Bagman and so forth. If they were going all the way down to P’s they had a ways to go. Harry noticed a few of the doors had more than one name, but the first name on the door was always written the largest and fit in the Alphabetical order of the rest of the doors. He also noticed a few of the plaques weren’t polished as though they were no longer important, or perhaps no one used those doors anymore. 

Finally they reached Potter. The creature leading them knocked on the door and there was a call from within. The creature pushed the door open and motioned them inside. Sitting on one of the two available chairs Harry watched as the creature that had been sitting behind the desk that sat in front of Harry had a conversation in a gutteral language that seemed to involve a lot of stomach in the word formation. It wasn’t one Harry recognized, then again Harry only really knew two, English and French, and he only knew French cause Petunia had once bought Dudley several language books hoping her son would turn out to be some kind of prodigy child. He hadn’t obviously and Harry had managed to snag the French one to read when he got bored in the cupboard. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could properly understand someone who spoke the language really fast but he was fairly certain he could speak it and he could definitely read it. 

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when the creature that led him and his aunt into the room left and the other began to speak. Beside him, holding herself stiffly his Aunt flinched as the creature spoke.

“I am the Potter Accounts manager. I have just been made aware that you are claiming to be Harrison James Potter, but have no idea of your heritage or position in the wizarding world,” the creature said.

“Yes sir,” Harry said. “I suppose sir the first thing I would have to do is prove that I am Harrison James Potter? Only I’m not entirely sure how to do that sir.” 

“There are two foolproof ways. One is a potion that requires the user to speak nothing but the truth, it is exceedingly powerful, and unfortunately for you, is unable to be consumed by anyone under the age of seventeen due to its potency. The second way is via contract quill, which under the provision of Harken’s Treaty of 1783 are legal for Gringotts use. The quill will not allow one to lie in writing as it draws upon the users blood. Read this please,” the creature said passing Harry a piece of thick paper.

Harry read through the words on the paper. It was only a line that stated, I swear upon blood and magic that I am ________________________________. 

“I just have to sign this?” Harry asked. 

“With your full legal name, yes,” the creature said holding out a dark quill. 

“Um I don’t know how to write with a quill and I need ink sir,” Harry said quietly. 

“There is no ink, as I said it will write with your blood,” the creature said. “As to your writing, it’s neatness means nothing, simply that you write the truth of your name.” Harry nodded and lightly pushed the nub to the paper and very carefully wrote down his name hissing at the light pain that occurred on the back of his left hand. Once he set the quill down and pushed the paper back over to the creature he looked at the back of his left hand. Though it did not bleed a puffy red scratch identical to the scrawl of his name he’d left on the paper was easily shown upon it. 

“Very well,” the creature said. “You are who you say you are. Before we go any further I must ask your companion to leave as she is not a Potter, unless of course she is your council.” 

“Um no she’s my Aunt,” Harry said. The creature nodded and rang a bell. The door opened a few muments later and another creature entered. An order from the Potter account manager in the strange language had the creature turning to look at Petunia before saying. 

“You may follow me.” The mument the door closed behind Aunt Petunia, the creature that was his account manager turned to Harry. 

“You look nothing like the description the magical world has been given of you,” the creature said.

“I’m sorry?” Harry said, “I’m rather confused, the magical world knows of me and supposedly knows what I look like? Is that normal?” Harry didn’t know what to say, sure he didn’t always look like this, he used to be younger but the main things didn’t change. He still had green eyes and auburn hair so dark it looked almost black until the light hit it. The creature snorted. 

“It is decidedly not Heir Potter. I suppose I must tell you what you are to this world,” the creature said. And so Harry Potter, or rather Lord Harrison Potter got a crash course in everything he was to the magical population. It was a most overwhelming half hour and they hadn’t even gotten to what was in his accounts, only his title. 

“Lord Apparent Potter,” the creature, no goblin, he was a goblin said. 

“Please just Harrison, or Harry rather, I’m not used to that yet,” Harry said. 

“Harrison, I believe we should order a inheritance tree for you, as I said earlier, due to your defeat and survival of the Dark Lord several families willed portions of their estates to you, if they have no living members, their titles may fall to you as well depending on the provisions they left. It has also been noted in the file that the last four generations of Potter Lords, not including your father as he never took up the mantle have not gotten an inheritance tree done and there maybe inheritances that have laid to the wayside, as lines were believed to have died out,” the goblin said. “And if there is, one of them may have a clause that removes the need for you to have a guardian since the Potter Lordship does not, that would fix the little problem you mentioned earlier, and you can file charges immediately rather than waiting until you turned thirteen and officially became Lord rather than Lord Apparent.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Harry said nodding his consent, “Still confused on the difference between Lord Apparent and Heir though,” Harry mumbled as he tried to make sense of the accounts book that the goblin had slid to him. Apparently the accounts were mostly self updating and the goblin only had to worry about adding entries when a new investment was made or for managing active investments, transactions and the like updated themselves.

“Lord Apparent, is only used when there is no one eligible for the Lordship over the age of Apparency. Different Lordships have different ages, and some write laws into charter, heirship means there is still a Lord in power. You have been the Potter Lord Apparent since your father’s death as Potter is a purely patriarchal line,” the goblin said, before pausing as another goblin entered the room and he gave more orders. Likely for the inheritance tree thing. “Generally speaking, those with the title of King, Queen, Prince ore Princess are never held in Apparency, and are simply applied at birth. Most Dukedoms, and Marquees titles are from birth as well if there is not already another holding it though occasionally Marquees titles require one to be eleven to hold. Earls can generally take up their titles at the age of eleven and Viscounts, which is the title House Potter holds though we still say Lord, can take up their titles at the age of thirteen, and Barons must wait until their seventeen,” the goblin said as the other left. 

“As a Lord Apparent you can make decisions necessary to help your House but you don’t have full access to all the privileges and responsibilities. For example, if you are the Lord Apparent of a House you can control and access investments and sign and oversee contracts but you cannot bring forth new investments unless drawn from your personal trust. You are also unable to sit in your seats in the Wizengamot, or magical House of Lords. You are also required to be under the care of a guardian though they are not allowed access to your accounts but that which is required for a Lord Apparents care and wellbeing, they may also sit in the Wizengamot seats if given leave to do so by the Lord Apparent. There is a series of duties that one chosen as guardian is contractually obligated to uphold upon being designated as a Lord Apparents’ guardian but looking through your files I can’t see the paperwork, in addition to your lack of knowledge about the wizarding world I believe you feel through the cracks as they say. If your inheritance tree does not give you an opportunity to become Lord in your own right we shall have to look through guardianship options,” the goblin said as he flipped through a large four-ringed book of official looking paperwork.

“Sir, if I may, that I do not have a designated guardian should mean that no one should be able to claim funds from my accounts under entitlement of my care?” Harry questioned eloquently though he was fairly certain he knew the answer already. 

“You are correct,” the goblin said. 

“Then I wish to inquire as to how exactly these transactions noted as going to specific accounts are occurring and why,” Harry said turning the accounts book he was holding and pointing at a specific section. 

“One of these is a muggle account,” the goblin said, as he rang the bell to call another goblin to the room. His orders in the strange language seemed even harsher than the last few times and the other goblin seemed to exit the room with even swifter urgency than the last two had as he sought to complete them. “My colleague will enquire as to the names on that account. As for the other two three here, it is a simple matter of pulling up the names here.” It took him a minute of looking on a flat crystal like device and Harry knew the mument it was done because the goblin growled and snarled a strange word that Harry was almost absolutely sure was a swear of some sort. 

“These discrepancies will be fixed at our expense with the utmost urgency. I swear this now Lord Apparent Potter heads will roll, I will ensure it even if I must swing the axe myself,” the goblin said. “The names on these accounts have no relation to you and would not even be in the line of guardianship let alone be appointed.”

“Could I perhaps get a piece of that paper?” Harry asked, “Along with one of the pens you are writing with? I’d like to write a few things down.” The goblin handed over a fountain pen and a piece of parchment. “Thank-you, now if you wouldn’t mind what were the names on the accounts, and if you know, what would be the name of the charge that I could set against them? Wait, as Lord apparent can I hire a lawyer for the House Potter or only for myself?” 

“You can hire a lawyer for the House Potter,” he goblin said. “As to the names, Molly Jane Weasely nee Prewitt, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and an organization that runs under the account name Order of the Pheonix, it is too my understanding that while the account has many who have provisional access it’s actual holder is also Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and for the transactions to have occurred between the accounts it would require his signature, if not his actual presence in the bank. However the Dumbledore account manager would have known that Lord Dumbledore had no legal right to claim funds and should have put a stop to it. As for the charges fraud and embezzlement would be the major two, but I am not trained in the full nuances of the law only in accounts and investments. Your solicitor will have far better advice and at your request I can send copies of these discrepancies for use in your case filing.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, making notes on the thick paper he’d been provided. There was still much he didn’t understand but Harry was already well versed in the art of research and note taking. Even things he didn’t understand were important. In fact, it was often that he didn’t understand them that made them important. And so at the age of eleven Harry understood another form of abuse, abuse of power.

The goblin managing the Potter Accounts had been thrust up in terms of responsibility and ranks when Harrison James Potter allowed an inheritance tree to be drawn up using his blood. In addition to being able to claim House Potter there were several other Family names he was able to claim, some like House Murk were so minor they didn’t even have a sole Account Manager but rather shared one with several other small Houses and didn’t have a Lordship or such attached to their name, others like House Peverell had sat in languish for over a hundred and fifty odd years and hadn’t had an account manager in almost that same amount of time. In the end Harry became Lord Harrison James Potter, Viscount of Potter, Marquees of Ravenclaw, Duke of Peverell, and Heir Apparent to the Marquees of Slytherin and Earldom of Black. Honestly he simply still preferred Harry. 

Harry immediately began using his newfound freedoms and privileges. His account manager, Karrig had helped him immensely. The goblin had provided both advice and his experience in things like hiring a solicitor as well as purchasing a property, for him to live. There were of course multiple properties connected to each of the families that Harry was now the sole member of, and several in the families like Black and Slytherin in which he was not. Unfortunately his parents wills had never been filed at Gringotts and had either been lost or destroyed in Godric’s Hollow which meant that the Ministry was able to claim that house without opposition as it had been purchased and owned by James Potter rather than by the Potter family. That was something else Harry had to get used to. He wasn’t quite two different people but he had to be careful as he had a great deal of responsibility and every action he made would be scrutinized as the actions of the Lord he was rather than the child. 

Nonetheless and despite the anger Harry directed towards the Ministry for their actions towards his parents property, Harry doubted that he would have liked to move into the house anyways, both due in part to the events that occurred there and also because though he understood the basics of the Floo, Godric’s Hollow was rather isolated and he would prefer something closer to London or another busy city, that would allow him a bit more opportunity to experience things. So Harry had purchased a small two-story home on Verdant Avenue. Geographically it was on the opposite side of London as Diagon Alley but due to the magical archways that connected the magic Alley’s together in London, it was about a ten-minute walk away from Gringotts. 

In addition to purchasing a house Harry officially filed charges against Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, and due to his magical emancipation, he also filed official charges against the Dursley’s. It was rather cathartic to see Aunt Petunia begin screaming in the middle of Gringotts when his solicitor’s assistant served her with the papers of lawsuit. She had threatened him and screamed and Harry had simply smiled and asked his solicitor could file a restraining order for him. Petunia had left but not without being subject to a large amount of glares. 

Though the man hadn’t needed to, his solicitor Landon Conning, a halfblood like Harry was as he understood, accompanied Harry in the purchasing of his school supplies and the sending of his letter, and even stayed at his side the during the entire purchase of a brand new wardrobe. It was long gone dinner when Harry had finally stopped his purchasing spree. Harry used to not having meals was easily ignoring his rumbling stomach as he signed for the last of the furniture to be delivered to his new house. 

Karrig had promised to arrange for several house elves to set up his house, and some of the old furniture and linens from his many vaults had been used. However Harry had wanted to purchase his bedroom set himself. Harry had also purchased the best wards and the time of the best goblin wardmasters money could buy and had a plethora of protections erected. Karrig had even authorized the use of one of Gringotts war trained and fierce looking eagle owls to deliver his response to Hogwarts. Harry decided that if he purchased an owl, they too would wear the spelled leather harness that Gringotts required for their postage owls to wear in order to ensure there was no mail tampering, both because it looked absolutely amazing and also for the protection it would provide. 

By the time Harry was set to board the train to Hogwarts much had changed in his life. He was finally settling into his new position in life. The trial for the Dursley’s had ended rather badly for the Dursley’s who were charged with multiple counts of child abuse and fraud, and received rather devastating sentences for it. Lord Dumbledore who was to be Harry’s headmaster, was charged with embezzlement and fraud, but managed to squeak away with loosing his position as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the position of Supreme Mugwup of the ICW, though not his seat, and several fines to be paid in addition the restitution of illegally acquired funds to Harry. Molly Weasley had managed to get away with simply refunding the illegally acquired funds due to her plea of guilty via ignorance. The witch claimed that she was unaware that the funds that Dumbledore had been paying her were from the Potter accounts and claimed she’d been told they were scholarship grants for her children as the money had gone to paying for their attendance. Harry could see that a great many of those on the Wizengamot hadn’t believed her but there was no proof otherwise and Dumbledore hadn’t claimed any different. 

Feeling somewhat compassionate Harry arranged to continue paying for the Weasley children’s educations with the arrangement that upon their completion and joining of the workforce, a portion of each paycheck, amount varying on the size of said paycheck, would go to Harry until the debt was paid off, as long as Molly Weasley signed a contract of no contact. She would not be allowed to approach or speak to Harry in any form unless Harry spoke to her first. The witch had not been happy about it but had signed it promptly in the face of her husband’s anger. Arthur Weasley had immediately apologized for his wife’s actions, which had been a great deal of the reason behind Harry’s compassion in the first place, along with the fact that Harry had no wish to punish their children for the actions of their mother. 

The trials which had occurred almost immediately after the charges were filed in the second week of July were done with before August had even started, allowing Harry to for the first time, truly celebrate his birthday with more than a piece of saved jerky and a chocolate bar, as had become his custom, to purchase on the last school week of June, each year. 

Instead he treated himself with a trip to a magical carnival in France, having seen the flyers in Diagon only a few short days before and arranged a portkey through the goblins. He’d immensely enjoyed himself and despite the Daily Prophet giving out a more accurate depiction of his looks he hadn’t been scrutinized all that much. 

By mid-August he’d finished the majority of the potions regime that the St. Mungos healers had started him on after they’d seen him to magically document his abuse for Landon Conning, his solicitor to put in his case file. He was healthy, happy, and fully independent for the first time in his very short life. No longer the scrawny underfed little green-eyed boy he had been, instead now he was the slight of build, and still unfortunately on the short side, confident young Lord he was meant to be. The healers had done their best to heal all of the effects of his systematic abuse, though he was told he’d likely never grow to be tall or fill out greatly as his body simply no longer had the capability to allow him to do so, something about magic and growth plates, but he would no longer be half blind by the age of twenty, or have a weak heart. 

So as he stepped into the train station having flooed into the station about a half hour before the train was set to leave, the area filled with other punctual families. He walked confidently despite his short stature. He was dressed well in tightly tailored royal blue slacks and a loose smoky grey peasants shirt and an open robe of dark crimson. His dark and deep red hair, which he’d grown long with a potion after a suggestion from one of the healers on how to tame it, was in what his house elf Timsey, who’d done it up for him, called a boho crown braid. He thought it was pretty even though it unveiled the scar everyone liked to gawk at and he’d requested that she teach him how to do it. It’s dips and curves also allowed the light to catch more fully revealing the red tones of his hair more thoroughly while the shadows caused area’s to seem even darker than the black they normally were. 

Families whispered quietly as he passed them the slight heel of his black dragonskin boots clacking against the marble floor of the magical train station, remarking on his unblemished and naturally tanned skin tone which seemed to naturally lighten and darken over his cheeks and cheekbones allowing his face to seem more mature and statuesque and his scar that sat almost proudly on display. On his hand sat two rings, one a Lords ring, currently showing his most powerful status as Duke Peverell, and the other showing his heirship as the heir to the Marquess of Slytherin as it was more powerful than his heirship of House Black. He could magically shift them with a bit of intent but generally let them rest in those forms, as they offered the most protection. 

The Peverell ring allowed him to know if what he was eating or drinking was poisoned or potioned by freezing on his finger so cold it almost burned. The occasion in which he learned just how damn cold that thing could get was the last time Timsey mixed his nutrient potion into his food. Instead he had to suffer drinking the damn thing straight. It was the Ravenclaw ring whose defense intrigued him the most however. 

His first night after putting the rings that showed his station, the first night in his life that he slept on something other than a crib mattress, he fell asleep only to dream of his own mind, sort of. There was a ghostly female sentinel there that guided him in putting up walls and defenses, to keep those who had the ability out of his head. It took a while to get the main building up and then to sort through his memories and knowledge but with the sentinel to help guide him there every night he managed. It was there that he learned he had what the sentinel called an ‘anima divisam’ or fragmented or divided soul piece in his head. There was little the sentinel could do to help him with it but to place a tight barrier around it preventing its access to his mind, magic, or soul. After digging around in several books at the bookstore and through the multitude of others he’d purchased he learned the art he’d learned was called occlumency. 

The Potter lordship ring also had it’s own enchantment, though less focused on protection. Instead it allowed its wearer to learn muscle memories faster, a wonderful bonus for Harry who had begun learning swordplay and archery as the traditional weapons of House Potter and House Peverell respectively. House Ravenclaw’s weapon was the pike but he’d need proper instructor to even begin the learning for that, along with the daggers of both the Houses Black and Slytherin. Timsey had been the elf of an older man who had regularly practiced his swordplay before his passing and had been able to correct his forms when he’d began practicing them using books for directions. She was less helpful when it came to archery but with a bit of practice he’d at least stopped snapping his wrist with the string when he released and had begun to correct his stance for better accuracy. He still only hit the inner rings of the target every five shots or so but he hit the target each time he shot at least. Landon had assured him that Hogwarts was obligated to provide him with a room to continue practicing his weaponry as well as any other lordly art he might take up though he would be required to do so on his own time and any instructor he might hire would be paid for by himself rather than the school.

He had decided against hiring an archery instructor, confident in his ability to teach himself, but had hired an instructor for his swordplay wanting to move past the rudimentary basics he had learned so far. He’d alerted the deputy headmistress as to the decision so that the instructor, a young goblin warrior by the name Greknor, apparently Harry’s account manager’s great nephew, would be allowed on the grounds. Though Harry also wanted to learn a musical instrument as traditional for Lords and Heirs, he decided to first see how difficult his schooling would be with the extra swordplay lessons and decide whether or not he would be able to do both on top of his schooling or if he should wait till the summer. Given he’d begun self study into the Wizengamot and it’s laws as he was required as a fully fledged Lord to attend every session except in the case of medical or familial emergencies or schooling obligations that could not be rearranged such as OWL’s or NEWT’s, when his appointed representative could sit in his seats, he wasn’t sure how much time he’d have to add another lesson onto his plate. He’d appointed his solicitor Landon Conning as his first representative and his account manager Karrig as his secondary representative if Landon Conning couldn’t do the duties in the case of a conflict of interest due to him being the one to bring forth a case.

As he was also taking an interest in his accounts and his investments and how to build up an investment portfolio, completely self study with helpful additions and tips from Karrig despite the goblin easily able to take care of his accounts himself, it was likely that his days would be right full. Even knowing that Karrig would take sufficient care of his finances Harry wanted to have his own firm grasp on it all in order to ensure that he was not taken advantage of as he had been before he’d had any knowledge of his fortune. Karrig had told him to start with contract and contract language as it could be involved in both law and finance. So Harry had a rather full study schedule already, not counting Hogwarts classes. 

Harry easily stepped onto the train, trunk shrunken in his pocket. He had forgone a pet in the end having not seen an owl he liked and not having much interest in cats or toads. For mail he had instead purchased a letterbox pair, one he’d leave with Timsey who could pop letters directly to their recipients when he sent them through and the other with himself so he could of course send them through. With the help of the goblins, all of his mail was redirected first to the letterbox, where Timsey could sort through it. After his health check a few spells had been found on him, one of which had been a broken glamour, though they could no longer tell what the glamour had been simply that it had been there, and the other a mail rejection ward that had most letters sent to him forcibly destroyed once they got within a certain distance of him. Harry had wondered exactly how the Hogwarts letter had gotten through to him but the Mediwitch who had found the ward had explained that like Gringotts official Hogwarts mail was protected against such things. After the mail ward came down Harry had found himself dealing with copious amounts of daily mail. 

Timsey had helped him come up with a sorting system. Mail that required his personal response was forwarded to him through the box directly, things like Gringotts Missives or Ministry mail, or the occasional party invite. His other mail was then separated into three piles, one that needed immediate redirection to the DMLE due to the threat the sender posed, either physical or occasionally as Harry had learned upon receiving someone’s dirty underwear, sexual. The other two piles depended on which of the two responses they would receive, as Harry had written out two and signed them for Timsey to copy and send off automatically. For fan mail the response was a simple thank-you card about the size of an index card, for business propositions to any his House’s the response was a directive to contact Karrig who would only contact Harry if he believed the proposal actually merited attention. Karrig in addition to Landon had worked hand in hand to sue, and collect recompense from all those who had used Harry’s name without his permission, whether as a marketing ploy or otherwise. So although Harry had only been back in the Wizarding World for a little over two months he had already begun making waves of his own. 

Sitting down in the first empty carriage Harry removed his trunk from his pocket and tapped it with his Chakte Kok or Redwood wand to resize it pulling out his herbology book out to get a bit of reading in on the lengthy train ride. His wand from what he could tell had both excited and frustrated the wandmaker, Mr. Ollivander. Harry had quite literally blown up three wands upon touching them, set several more on fire and cracked six, before Ollivander had given up and decided to make him a personal wand rather than lose anymore of his stock, as the way in which Harry had broken them was through pure magic and they couldn’t be repaired as they would be able if it had simply been a fire spell. 

So Harry’s wand was made of Chakte Kok, a rare Mexican wood that was a bright watermelon red that had been carved and spelled so that it wouldn’t lose it’s beautiful color under the exposure of sunlight. The wand had been carved smoothly so that it looked as though it had scales running the length of it to the handle which was carved into a more smooth shape, though the pommel like end was carved into a lion head, not snarling or roaring but seemingly quiet and guarding. The wood the wandmaker told him favored those with focus, clarity and courage, but also preferred those who sought the truth, meditated on decisions and could provide much insight. The inner core was a mixture of two things the powdered scale of a Landon, a guardian snake like being that was almost extinct whose properties meant it’s wielder would likely be strong in protection and warding, and the Blood of a Nemean Lion, the properties of which strongly complimented the Landon scales. All in all the wandmaker had told him it was a powerful wand that’s strengths lie in protection and as Harry privately thought, a rather expensive one as well costing him thirty eight gallons, almost half of what he’d spent on everything else he’d bought that day. 

Harry was relatively undisturbed for the first twenty minutes of the train ride, happily reading through his text, making small notes in the journal he’d specifically set aside for Herbology, having preferred for his notes to be all together rather than on separate pieces of parchment. He’d of course still purchased parchment for his assignments, but this way all his things would remain neater, and easier to find. He’d also decided on fountain pens that could be refilled rather than quills that he would need to clip continuously as they dulled and eventually replace. He also found them much easier to write with, and Timsey upon seeing his writing when he was writing the automatic responses for her to copy and send out to those who wrote him she had forced him to sit down and practice until he could write both neatly and consistently. 

He had just finished his notes on the first chapter of the book when the door of his carriage opened. Looking up Harry saw a red headed boy that looked familiar but he did not ever remember meeting. Then it hit him; this boy was a Weasely, and his familiarity due to the looks he had taken from both his mother and father. Harry wasn’t one to judge based on ones parents so he’d give the boy a chance, besides his father had seemed to be a rather moral man.

“Hello,” Harry said politely.

“Um hi,” the boy said, “All the other compartments are full, can I sit here?” the boy asked. Harry rather doubted the other carriages were all full given the size of the train and the recent student population of Hogwarts according to the Hogwarts, a History, but perhaps the boy did not want to sit alone. 

“Of course,” Harry said politely, “I’ll simply be reading however, and not a very good conversationalist I’m afraid.” The boy simply sat without a response to Harry’s words, instead launching into his own. 

“I’m Ron, Ron Weasely, and you’re Harry Potter, your scar is awesome,” Ron said. 

“Thank-you,” Harry said graciously though he thought the boy rather tactless as to comment on a scar he received the night of his parents death, it was best to be polite, and went immediately back to his textbook. He hoped to get one more chapter finished before he’d switch to charms. He’d completed notes of the first two chapters of both potions and transfiguration already, when he’d taken a break from his self-study subjects over the summer. He had only got about three pages more before the door to the carriage suddenly opened again. Harry fought not to sigh, the least people could do was knock. Instead he marked his page as the intruder, a young girl spoke. 

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one,” the girl said. Looking up opened his mouth to answer only to be interrupted by the girl who caught sight of his scar. 

“You’re Harry Potter!” the girl said excitedly. “I’ve read all about you.” Harry cut her off there.

“No doubt you have, however I have found there is very little true fact in most of the nonfiction books that have written about me, mostly speculation and the fiction, well lets just say I made a tidy profit upon my litigations against those who wrote such things without permission. Thankfully the authors at least had the tact to state that the books were not portrayals of fact in the preface,” Harry said.

“Well that was rather rude, I hadn’t even finished my sentence, and how dare you say that the textbooks are lying!” the girl said. 

“How dare I?” Harry asked mildly. “Every single textbook that mentions me has given a description of my physical appearance, can you recall it oh defender of text?” Harry asked.

“Of course!” the girls said with even more offense. “Harry Potter has the trademark messy windswept black hair of his father’s line worn short and the vibrant green eyes of his muggleborn mother. He wears glasses and bears a zigzag scar in the shape of a bolt of lightning on his forehead, as a mark of his survival against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named,” the girls said quoting word for word one of the history books that Harry had purchased and clearly the girl had as well.

“And? Do you not see the lies within that short paragraph?” Harry asked. “I have neither messy black hair nor glasses, and never have. Though my hair was once short and somewhat messy it was curly rather than windswept. The only truth in that particular statement is about my eyes and scar. The author of that book had never met me and certainly hadn’t confirmed his sources about my appearance for himself.” The girl harrumphed. 

“It doesn’t mean you aren’t rude interrupting me like that!” she spat seemingly angry that he had disproved her statement about the text with unshakable logic. 

“Rudeness that went both ways I believe, as you did not knock before opening our compartment, nor did you politely introduce yourself,” Harry answered.

“You didn’t introduce yourself either!” she yelled. 

“I didn’t have to, nor did I have time to before you recognized me and immediately began your statement about having read about me,” Harry said fighting to remain polite.

“You’re a horrid boy!” she yelled. 

“I’d ask how, but as I doubt you wish to tell me, or have any actual reasoning, perhaps you ought to leave. Be aware however, that just because someone can out argue you with logic doesn’t mean that throwing a hissy fit will change their mind. To answer your first question, there is no toad here and I have not seen one. Please leave our compartment and close the door as it was behind you,” Harry said. The compartment door was slid closed with a slam and the girl was gone. 

“Blimey,” the red head, Ron said. 

“My apologies if I’ve offended you,” Harry said not really sorry for anything he’d said. 

“No, I mean, I’m not offended. It was all true right? The stuff about authors writing lies?” Ron asked. 

“Yes,” Harry said mildly. “As I knew no one in the Wizarding World before mid June no one ever asked me permission, and I certainly didn’t do anything that those adventure books described. Even the books that describe what happened the night of my parents death are pure speculation, given that the only witness to the events was me and I do not remember it at all.”

“Blimey,” Ron said again. “My sister has all of the adventure books, my mum bought them for her, I think she thinks they’re true.”

“Hopefully not,” Harry said, before softening his voice as he broached what could be a rather sensitive topic. “Are you aware of what occurred between me and your mother?” Harry asked.

“Mum said you’re helping pay for our schooling,” Ron said his cheeks turning red, “Cause the scholarships at Hogwarts are discontinuing or something.” Harry sighed inwardly.

“If I told you that was a twisting of the truth what would you say? And would you prefer to continue believing that or would you rather me tell you the truth straight with no softening of blows?” Harry asked. Ron thought about it for a minute, looking nervous. 

“I know it’s not the truth, or at least not entirely the truth. My dad has been fighting with my mum and there was a bit about it in the papers before mum burned them and forbid us from reading. I guess I want to know the truth but at the same time I still love my mum,” Ron said.

“I don’t begrudge you that,” Harry said. Ron looked confused, and Harry clarified. “It means I’m not angry that you love your mum even if you knew the full truth I wouldn’t be angry.” 

“Oh okay,” Ron said. “So can you tell me the truth? Dad doesn’t talk about it and no one wants to try and ask him because then he and my mum just start fighting again.”

“Well depending on if your mother told the truth during the trial or not, Dumbledore accessed my accounts and used them to give you and your siblings scholarships in order to go to Hogwarts. She claimed she had no idea it was my money rather than Hogwarts’ and Dumbledore didn’t refute her, I am unsure of which to believe as I don’t really know your mum or Dumbledore, but there is a no contact order in place between us so she can’t approach me or talk to me unless I go to her first. Your mother is required to pay back the money that was taken from my accounts but I chose to continue funding you and your siblings schooling under a sponsorship proviso. When you graduate and take a job, a percentage directly dependant on your wage will be paid to me until amount spent on your education is paid in full, there are no tax or interest benefits for me, so it’s not profit based, it’s simply philanthropic,” Harry explained. 

“Um what does that last word mean?” Ron asked. 

“Philanthropic? It means to give money or benefit to another out of goodwill or kindness. Basically it just means I’m not doing it to gain something,” Harry said. 

“Oh thanks,” Ron said, looking pensive for a moment. “I’m not very good at school stuff, so I don’t think I’ll do as well as my brothers but I’ll try, cause it wouldn’t be very fair to you if I just played around and didn’t do my work.” 

“Why don’t you think you’re very good at school stuff? I thought that Hogwarts was the first school that most magical kids go to unless they are a muggleborn or a halfblood that lives in the muggle world?” Harry asked. 

“That’s true but our parent’s teach us to read and do simple math and stuff, but I was never any good at it. Especially reading, it just never makes sense and the words just won’t stay still so it gives me a headache,” Ron said with a sigh, “Mum, ended up just letting me go do something else cause I just couldn’t seem to pay attention.” Suddenly Ron seemed to get worried and earnest at the same time. “But I did learn to read and write promise, I’ll try really hard.” 

“It’s alright,” Harry said trying to calm him. “Have you ever seen a neurologist?” Harry asked. “It sounds like you have dyslexia and maybe ADHD.”

“What is a neurologist?” Ron asked. 

“It’s like a doctor but for your brain. Dyslexia is when your brain has difficulty linking sounds to letters on a page, it’s called phonemic awareness, one of the kids in my first year had it, and ADHD too. ADHD caused it to be hard for him to focus on the assignments and sometimes made him disturb class because he wanted to move around all the time,” Harry answered. 

“That sounds a bit like me,” Ron said. “The words just don’t make sense, and I don’t really want to pay attention because of that. I don’t generally want to move around though unless I’m trying to read or write, but that’s cause it’s just so hard to do, so maybe just the dyslexia?” Ron asked. “But I don’t think we have brain healers like that in the magical world.”

“Maybe you could be the first?” Harry said. 

“Healers need to be smart and do good in school and there’s no chance of that, especially if I have dyslexia,” Ron said.

“I could try and help?” Harry said. “We’re gonna have the same classes even if we end up in different Houses, though we might have them at different times. If we study together I could try and teach you the things that the teachers did to help Ethan, like reading the text book to him and writing the actual words on the paper for the assignments while he gave the oral answers. So maybe a diction quill would help? I can’t do all the reading for you but I can help and you could find others to help too, maybe some of the professors.” 

“I’d like that!” Ron said. “But we’ll probably be in the same House. I mean every Weasely since like forever has been in Gryffindor, and you’re Harry Potter!”

“I don’t think that I’ll be going to Gryffindor actually,” Harry said. “I can see myself going to any of the other three Houses but not Gryffindor. Maybe you’ll still be with me though. Just because your family has all gone to one House doesn’t mean you have the same traits, though it was plenty brave of you to tell me that you weren’t very good at school, but I think that even if you aren’t good at school it doesn’t mean you aren’t intelligent, I mean you came to the conclusion that your mum wasn’t telling the entire truth based off of your parents behavior and a single headline, that’s intelligence just, a different kind than school smarts, and if you’re determined as you are to overcome your possible dyslexia then that counts as ambition right? That’s Slytherin right there, plus you basically devoting yourself to overcoming it out of loyalty to me for providing the money for your schooling, that’s a Hufflepuff’s loyalty. Personally I think you’d do well in any of the Houses.”

“I never really thought about it like that, but I think I’ll try to avoid Slytherin if I can, my mum wouldn’t be very happy, though I don’t know about my dad, and my brothers would probably pick on me, you don’t know Fred or George but they like to prank people and I’ve been on the receiving end far to many times to want to bring it on, on purpose,” Ron said with a shudder. “You really think I could get into Ravenclaw even if I’m not good at school?” Ron asked. 

“Definitely,” Harry said with no hesitation, and the other boy smiled. The two boys got to know each other, Ron regaling Harry with all things quidditch and Harry about learning weapon play. They’d been on the train for over two hours when there was a knock on the door of the compartment. Harry stood and answered it before Ron could. 

“Hello dear, anything from the cart?” the woman at the door asked, behind him Ron answered. 

“Not for me, mum packed me a lunch. She always forgets that I don’t like corned beef though,” Ron answered somewhat despondantly. 

“Well I do,” Harry said, “So why don’t you come pick a sandwich you like and we’ll swap? Plus you can tell me what some of these treats are and we can share a few, I haven’t tried a lot yet. Couldn’t have them with my potions.”

“Sure!” Ron said perking up. He picked a ham and cheese sandwich and they both picked a butterbeer to drink. They got a chocolate frog each, a package of Bertie’s Every Flavor Beans to share, a carton of ice mice, and three boxes of Harry’s favorite treat immediately packed in his trunk, hopefully to last the year, cherry flavored blood pops. 

“You’re a pretty good friend,” Ron said when they had finished their sandwiches and began sharing the beans. 

“You too,” Harry said. “I’ve never actually had one before but you’re pretty good.”

“Really? Me either, the twins always invited Cedric Diggory one of our neighbors over but he’s a year older than them so he never wanted to play with me, and none of their other friends were ever very nice to me. Ginny my sister usually invited Luna over and she’s nice if a bit strange but she’s a girl so we weren’t really friends either,” Ron said. 

“Well now we’re each other’s first friend,” Harry said as he held out the box for Ron to take another bean before laughing as the boy spit it out. Harry seemed to have much better luck than the other boy, getting either normal flavors like pineapple or watermelon, or at least good tasting odd flavors like bacon, or carrot, while Ron was hit and miss, having strawberry this time and earwax the next. Ron joined in the laughter after he’d used the butterbeer to wash away the taste from his mouth. They were interrupted when the door of their compartment slid open. 

“What they’re saying is true then, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts,” a very blond boy said before gesturing to the two rather rotund boys beside him. “This is Crabbe and Goyle, and I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” Ron was still trying to hold in chuckles from before and Draco seemed to believe they were directed at him and reacted rather ungraciously. “Think my name is funny do you? Red hair, hand me down robes, you’re a Weasley. My father says your family has more children than sense. You ought to be more careful who you associate with Heir Potter, if you’d like, I can help you there, as Heir Malfoy of course,” Draco said, turning back to Harry and ignoring Ron. 

“I’ll forgive you this indiscretion once, Heir Malfoy,” Harry said with forced politeness, disliking the other boy’s seemingly entitled and swarmy nature. “You are under the misguided believe that you have rank over me, or Mr. Ron Weasley here, you do not.” Draco sneered. 

“Potter’s may be Viscounts the same as Malfoy’s but House Black of which I am a possible heir and likely to inherit through my mother is an Earldom, I am most certainly above you and any Weasley,” Draco spat. 

“Forgive me, perhaps a proper introduction is in order. Greetings Heir Malfoy, member of House Black, I am Lord Harrison James Potter, Viscount of Potter, Marquees of Ravenclaw, Duke of Peverell, and Heir Apparent to the Marquees of Slytherin and Earldom of Black, and Mr. Weasley as all of his siblings in Hogwarts is currently one of my protectorates as I am his sponsor,” Harry said standing up and drawing himself up as tall as he could. He was still short but the firmness in his voice and his blazing eyes made him seem much taller. “I suggest that for the time being you leave and reconsider your approach. Perhaps we may be acquaintances at a later time.” Harry left no other option, either Draco could stay now and cause his House a feud it would not survive, not in the light of Harry’s full titles, or he could leave and perhaps become an ally later, if not eventually a friend. Draco was intelligent enough to take the chance.

“Wow,” Ron said. “You really have all those titles? Even the Ravenclaw and Slytherin ones?” 

“Yup, was a bit of a surprise,” Harry said. 

“The protectorate thing?” Ron asked. 

“The sponsorship contract,” Harry explained. “It’s more than just monetary sponsorship, I lend both my name and my influence for your benefit in anyway I see fit. As you’re still underage it means I can claim you as my protectorate. If something disparaging on your end were to happen, such as I don’t know, you killed someone, it would look bad upon me if I continued your sponsorship, so you know no smacking the shit out of Heir Malfoy, even if it seems like he could use it.” They burst into laughter once more. 

The rest of the train ride was found Harry reading aloud from their potions textbook, as it was the subject that Ron thought he’d have the most difficulty with, because the ingredients and recipes had to be read correctly from the page. Ron was hoping that if he could memorize the reasons behind using different cuts or preparation forms and the properties of ingredients he’d be able to figure out a recipe a little easier even if he couldn’t read it properly. Harry thought it was a wonderful idea, and was already planning on purchasing Ron a diction quill, several notebooks to help keep him more organized like his teachers had done for Ethan, and perhaps a ruler to help with reading as well. 

When the train began slowing they both gathered up their trash and Harry put his text away before they changed into their school robes. Noticing that Ron’s were rather threadbare, Harry was confused and asked him about it.

“Ron, why are you using old robes? I paid for you and your siblings to get full school wardrobes and new supplies,” Harry said. 

“But mum said that we just had enough to pay for the schooling and a few new things so I’d have to use Bill’s old things, I even have his old wand, it used to be one of my uncles before. All my stuff is hand me downs,” Ron said. 

“That’s not right, I’ll look into it,” Harry said quickly taking out one of his fountain pens and writing a note and ripping off the piece of parchment it was on before putting it into his letterbox and packing everything up again. “There, I should know by tomorrow morning. Is it the same for the rest of your siblings?” Harry asked. 

“Well Percy got a new owl, and Fred needed a new wand, this year but other than that I think all of my brothers are wearing hand me downs,” Ron said a little nervously. 

“Well it’s a good thing it’s Friday today and we don’t start school till Monday, I can send a letter to your dad and get you guys everything that I paid for,” Harry said. 

“You really don’t have too,” Ron said his cheeks red. “I mean you don’t have to treat us like charity.”

“You’re not charity,” Harry said. “If I hadn’t taken you and your siblings on as protectorates your mother’s actions, deliberate or not would have lost your father his job, and none of you would get to go to Hogwarts. Plus getting you a new wardrobe is not charity, you represent me remember? Plus you’re my friend.” Ron ducked his head but not before Harry caught the happy grin on his face. Suddenly Ron’s arms were wrapping around Harry in a big hug. 

“Thank-you,” Ron said breathlessly before they separated and hurried to where a large man was shouting for the first years to follow him. The boat ride across the lake was rather chilly for all that the grandeur of the castle lights. Harry caught Ron shivering more than once in the threadbare robes and vowed to figure out exactly where the money he had sent for the Weasley children had gone. 

Though Harry had read about the ghosts of Hogwarts it was still a bit of a surprise. Harry watched beside Ron as two of the ghosts argued about a poltergeist named Peeves, before glancing at a silent ghost who was watching him from her post high in the far corner. She looked strangely familiar before he almost gasped as she gave him a soft almost fond smile. His spectral sentinel! She was the one who had appeared in his dreams and had helped him learn occlumency. Sure it was only the beginnings of it but it was his building block and she had helped him. 

Now of course there were many defenses not just rudimentary barriers, the major being that his barriers were made of freezing cold water, just on the verge of becoming ice rushing as though through rapids all around, any who tried to enter would find their mind swiftly becoming burned by the extreme cold as the water pushed them around, until they exited. If one made it through the waters they would find themselves in a field of fire, and the sudden temperature change Harry hoped would stop any intruder short. Then came the utter darkness, and finally one would come to a house that had a locked door, the lock itself wasn’t hard to get past but that wasn’t the point. Inside the house were all his non-consequential memories mixed with a few of his more shameful memories that had already been inferred due to his trial for the Dursley’s, any intruder would expect that this was his inner sanctum when in fact it was simply a trick. His real memories were located outside buried in the garden. He was rather proud of the defenses. 

A stern looking professor they swiftly learned was the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor told them all to follow her and prepare themselves for the sorting. The Great Hall was as beautifully breathtaking as Hogwarts, A History described it and the girl from the train was swift to tell everyone listening that she had ‘read all about it’. Ron and Harry looked at one another and fought off chuckles. 

Then the sorting started, there was quite a few students before Potter and Weasley so they had a bit of time to wait. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all ended up in Slytherin and Harry disliked the idea of spending the next seven years in a dorm with them and hoped that he was better suited to another House other than Slytherin. Hermione Granger, the girl from the train was sent to Gryffindor and upon seeing Harry and Ron looked smug as though her getting into Gryffindor somehow made her better than them already. Harry simply raised an eyebrow and smirked, making her glare. 

“Potter, Harry,” McGonagall called. 

“Harrison please deputy headmistress,” Harry said as he walked up. “Using nicknames may encourage favoritism, if I’d earned it in someway I wouldn’t mind but as I have not even formally met you I ask for my proper name if you’d not mind.”

“Of course,” McGonagall said. “I was unaware that Harrison was your full name, you are on the roster as Harry, I’ll have that changed tonight.” 

“Thank-you,” Harry said as he sat on the stool. McGonagall plopped the hat on his head. 

“Fuck that’s cold!” a voice in his head said suddenly and Harry almost jumped. 

“Then get out of my head!” Harry shouted mentally back. 

“I’m out but entirely unsure as to how to sort you, most young ones don’t have such strong shields, I can get in and out and find their most dominant traits.” the hat said. 

“Can you tell anyone what you see?” Harry asked. 

“Gods no, it was the first enchantment Salazar put on me when Godric decided on how to sort the children,” the hat exclaimed. 

“Then I’ll lead you through,” Harry said. In his mind’s eye Harry was wearing the hat as he conjured a boat and rode the rapids before he was suddenly in a firefighter’s suite, the hat now a firefighter’s helmet, as he traversed the field of fire. Then he was in a minors outfit the hat a headlamp before they were before a small house. Rather than even bothering to go in Harry’s clothing changed into gardening gear and he began digging in the dirt for the little cigarette box that held all his memories. 

Twenty minutes later after much deliberation, the hat spoke aloud to the great hall as a whole. 

“The boy is equal parts Ravenclaw and Slytherin and for the first time in my long existence I am unable to sort him. When I asked him which he preferred he gave me two answers, his reasoning to go into Ravenclaw was purely Slytherin and his reasoning to go to Slytherin was purely Ravenclaw. He holds the blood of both lines and has right to the titles of both lines so instead I ask that the current heads of Ravenclaw and Slytherin please decide between themselves on which House shall be his home. The deliberation was quick and Flitwick spoke.

“He will be in Ravenclaw,” the half goblin said.


	2. Chapter Two

Even as the inner lining of his robes changed to a muted navy blue and the stitches in the thread a bronze Harry made his way to the table that sat his new House. There was polite clapping but it seemed like everyone was still stunned by both the houses that had been possibilities and the fact that the hat had been unable to sort him. It even took Professor McGonagall a moment to begin calling from the list again.

Soon after Harry it was Ronald’s turn. The boy seemed exceedingly determined as he stepped up to the stool which worried Harry a little as the boy had mentioned how he adamantly did not want to be Slytherin, due to his mother and brother’s prejudices. The hat however did not call out Slytherin but nonetheless it surprised the entire hall as it shouted Ravenclaw. Ronald was apparently not wrong in stating that everyone expected a Weasely to go to Gryffindor. 

Harry smiled widely at the other boy as he hurried over to Ravenclaw and sat beside Harry as though trying to escape the silence of the great hall. Suddenly there was clapping, Harry glanced over towards the Gryffindor table to find three people clapping, before the Ravenclaw table burst into applause. All three boys were red-heads and shared the startling similar looks of Ron, and his father, leading Harry to believe that these three were the other Weasely’s currently in school. Harry noted that their clothing was only in slightly better condition than Ron’s being only a little less worn. 

Soon the sorting was done and with a few start of term rules, one of which seemed strange to Harry, ‘no entering the third floor corridor unless one wanted to face certain death’ did not seem the thing to say to a room of children of which one fourth at the minimum likely wanted to prove their bravery. Harry noted it down in his head to speak with his solicitor later. It didn’t feel quite legal to have something that was apparently so dangerous in a school with children, and if it was something like a structural problem then it was dangerous to the rest of the school as well. 

The food appeared moments later, and beside him Ron was quick to start loading his plate with food. Harry on the other hand took his time. While he was off of his potions regime, he still had a diet plan to help ensure the results of the potions remained. Hidden in various places around the fried and greasy favorites of all children he found different dishes that would both satisfy him and adhere to his diet; lemon and butter fried asparagus, white rice, roasted red peppers, and a baked chicken breast. Try as he might however he couldn’t find anything for him to drink other than water that fit within his diet’s parameters. He sighed and poured himself a cup nonetheless.

While he no longer ate as fast as he could, Harry still had the habit of consuming his food rather quickly and was finished only a few minutes after plating up. Though the potions regime he’d been on had allowed him to skip the refeeding process of starvation victims, and had also enlarged his shrunken stomach he generally did not eat seconds. Rather than remain seated watching everyone eat Harry leaned over to whisper to Ron.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Harry said. “I’m gonna go let your brother’s know that I’m taking you all on a shopping trip tommorow. I’ll have to organize it white the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, but they can’t actually stop me as taking care of my protectorate’s needs is considered a Lordship duty and Hogwarts is not allowed to interfere.” Ron merely nodded as he took another big bite of the chicken leg he held in his hand.

Harry could feel the eyes on him when he stood but he ignored them as he made his way round the Ravenclaw table to the Gryffindor table. With little preamble he sat between the two twin redheads, recalling the names Ron had said earlier. 

“Hello Fred and George,” Harry said, noting their sudden silence along with the frown on their older brother’s face where he sat only a few seats down and on the opposite side of the table. 

“Hello little raven,” the twin to his left said. 

“What is it that brings you fluttering over here?” the one on his right continued.

“I needed to speak with my protectorates of course,” Harry said loud enough that Percy would hear. The older boy took the hint and picked up his plate before moving to sit directly across from Harry and his twin brothers. 

“What is it you need to speak to us about?” Percy asked tersely but not completely disrespectfully. 

“It has come to my attention that the funds I set aside for your wardrobes and supplies was somehow waylaid. It is something I have already sent for my solicitor and account manager to look into. Despite this little inconvenience, I will be arranging for a trip to Diagon tomorrow to rectify the matters of your wardrobe and other supplies. If you three could be in the entrance hall at eleven am, we will leave and get an early lunch before completing the necessary shopping. If you could make a list of the things you need replaced not including your wardrobes. It will help the shopping be more efficient,” Harry said. Percy was the first to nod after studying Harry’s face for a long moment. Harry wondered if he had the same reservations of charity as Ron. 

“And why should we just let you treat us as charity?” the twins said together. Well that answered the question of what the twins believed. 

“As I told your younger brother, this is not charity,” Harry said standing. “You are officially my protectorates. That comes with a certain standard, which I will uphold. As I understand you are both pranksters I can’t ask you to completely behave but do try and ensure that you don’t cross the line of decency to far? What you do reflects on me as well as yourselves.”

“We understand,” Percy said quickly, giving his younger brothers a look that told them not to argue. 

“Then I will see you tomorrow,” Harry said and with a nod rose from his seat to cross back to the Ravenclaw table. He sat back down just as the main dishes disappeared replaced by a whole variety of desserts. Harry bypassed most of them opting for a single scoop of strawberry ice cream accompanied by candied blueberries and a raspberry syrup. 

After another seemingly inane speech by the Headmaster they were given leave to go to their beds. Harry approached the young blond prefect that was calling for the first years to follow her. 

“Excuse me,” Harry said politely. 

“What is it? Can it wait until we’ve reached the common room?” the prefect asked a little flustered and frustrated trying to wrangle the first years.

“Unfortunately no,” Harry said. “I’m going to try and catch the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress before they leave and will not be able to go with you to the common room. It’s a matter of Lord’s business,” Harry said quickly. “I’m sure they’ll arrange for me to get to the Ravenclaw common rooms safely.”

“Of course,” the prefect said a little flustered trying to deal with curious and sugar high eleven year olds. Harry wondered if there was a legit reason that Hogwarts offered so many high sugar content desserts to children or if it was up to the Headmaster to choose a menu. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. 

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick,” Harry called out catching the attention of all the professors who were still at the head table watching as the students left. “If I might have a word?”

“Of course,” Professor Flitwick said at the same time Professor McGonagall asked,

“Could it wait until tomorrow?”

“It concerns Business of House Potter and its protectorates which reside currently under both of your authority as students of Hogwarts, so while I as Lord of House Potter do not have to speak to either of you before removing them for the day to properly clothe and supply them I am doing it as a courtesy, if you do not have the time to speak of it I will take my leave,” Harry said kindly despite his words slight dig towards the Deputy Headmistress. 

“You do not have the authority to remove any student from Hogwarts my boy,” Dumbledore said interrupting any response that would have come from the heads of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Harry forced himself not to react before turning to look at the Headmaster. 

“If you would refrain from speaking to me so informally please? We are not friends and as was established this summer you are not a guardian and even as Headmaster of Hogwarts, have little authority over me besides as a regular student. As to my authority over my protectorates contrary to your belief Headmaster,” Harry said. “As Lord of my House I have every right to make decisions on behalf of my protectorates as long as it is in the best interests of both them and their representation of my House. As I am properly clothing and supplying them due to a misplacement of funds that was sent to their family, something my lawyers and representatives are already looking into I assure you, I am well within my rights. Be that as it may, I am not asking for permission, merely informing Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, that Ronald, Fredrick, George, and Percy Weasely and myself will be leaving the castle tomorrow at eleven am, and will not be returning until the necessary shopping is completed.” The Headmaster frowned and opened his mouth but before he could speak McGonagall was already speaking. 

“Of course Lord Potter,” the professor said. “As to the arrangements you owled me about earlier in the week, a classroom has been set aside for you, I can show you its location on Sunday, will your protectorates be joining you?” 

“I have yet to speak to them all about their ambitions, so for now no. I will however need to arrange a meeting with you Professor Flitwick, concerning Ronald, who I would like to be in attendance, but perhaps Sunday?” Harry said mentally checking another tally off of the list in his head of things he needed to complete. 

“That will be acceptable,” Flitwick said, “I generally have spare time directly after lunch on Sunday’s, my office is attached to the Raven’s common room so can I see you both at one?” Harry gave a nod of acceptance before turning to McGonagall once more.

“Once I’ve spoken to Fredrick, George, and Percy at more length as to their own ambitions, I’ll likely ask for a meeting for each of them with you as well if that is reasonable?” Harry asked politely not truly meaning the request as a question but more as a statement of fact. 

“More than Lord Potter,” Professor McGonagall answered. 

“Thank-you, that was all the business I required to speak with you both of tonight,” Harry said. “If it wouldn’t burden you greatly Professor Flitwick, could you lead me to the Ravenclaw Common rooms?” 

“Of course,” Professor Flitwick. 

“If you wouldn’t mind Filius, I have need to speak with young Harry, I can lead him to his common rooms afterwards,” the Headmaster said.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, as I said before desist from referring to me in such informal terms. Not only that but, while I may not have any sort of official restraining order against you, I decline to be alone in your presence at any time, due much in part to your previous actions or rather inaction as my magical guardian. As you are only my Headmaster the only thing that should necessitate you needing to speak to me would involve my schooling, I think it only sensible that my head of House Professor Flitwick remain while you speak with me,” Harry said firmly letting every professor still in the vicinity know that he was not going to take a refusal. 

“I’m sure we could speak privately just this once Lord Potter,” Dumbledore said finally responding using Harry’s proper address given that Harry hadn’t given him leave to refer so casually to Harry. 

“I have made my wishes clear, Headmaster. As I said there is no official restraining order between us, however I am sure my lawyer will not find it too arduous to add filing those forms to his to do list,” Harry said. 

“Of course I should not have pushed,” Dumbledore said inflecting his voice with false humility. “Perhaps this conversation should continue another day, it has little to do with school, I simply wished to speak with you about your parents, I knew them of course and believed you would wish to know more of them.” Harry hardened himself seeing through the tactic the Headmaster was pulling immediately. 

“Evidently you didn’t know them well enough to ensure their only child’s health and safety,” Harry said before turning to Professor Flitwick. “I believe that all that was necessary for me to arrange before tomorrow, shall we take our leave?”

“Of course, it’s been a long day Lord Potter,” Flitwick said stepping off the dais that the head table was on, Harry following behind. 

“Please Professor, I’d prefer that my teachers simply refer to me as Mr. Potter when I am under their authority and only more formally should the situation not be about my schooling,” Harry said, loud enough for the professors behind them to hear his words, though he made no move to check for their responses. 

Harry could freely admit the utter stupidity he found the riddle based password entrance of Ravenclaw. The founders couldn’t honestly have believed that not a single student of another house would have the intelligence or wit necessary to solve a simple riddle. Harry felt even more satisfied that he’d had the goblins ward his trunk to keep everyone out. His correspondence box was within as well as copies of his account books. He had no wish for anyone, Ravenclaw or not to get access to his things. 

Nonetheless Harry was deeply delighted to be crawl into his bed in the Ravenclaw dorms. Almost everyone seemed to be in bed already when he and Flitwick had arrived, only a few older students in the common area talking quietly as they caught up with what had happened over the summer, and whatever other gossip they’d not already spoken of while on the train. Professor Flitwick directed him up the left most staircase once in the tower. Harry swiftly found the first year dorms, labeled as such and pushed open the door. 

The dorms were set up with five queen-sized beds, headboards pushed up against one wall and trunks set at the footboard. The opposite wall had workstations, five desks and a small waist height bookcase beside them. The wall directly across from the door that Harry entered was entirely a floor to ceiling glass window. Long heavy looking deep navy blue drapes, were tied back on either side of the wall with thick decorative bronze rope. Four boys, one very recognizably fire-topped, were sitting on their beds talking quietly. They went silent as Harry entered. 

Harry made his way to the only empty bed, the closest one to the window wall. Without making a single noise he stripped down to his underwear before dressing in soft jersey cotton pajamas, and a pair of thick wooly socks. Still no one spoke even as Harry put his clothing into what was clearly a laundry hamper, set beside his bed. Noticing that Ron’s own pajama’s seemed to be rather threadbare and the boy was already half under his blanket likely to help ward off the cooler air of the tower Harry grabbed a second pair of wooly socks.

“Are we going to continue the awkward silence or shall we all introduce ourselves before bed?” Harry asked shifting to stand beside Ronald’s bed, which was right beside his own. “May I?” Harry asked the redheaded boy, gesturing to the bed. 

“Of course,” Ron said.

“Your brother’s will be meeting us at eleven in the entrance hall tomorrow,” Harry said as he climbed onto the bed to sit beside Ron. He passed the socks to Ron without drawing attention to his actions. “We’ll head down to Hogsmead and use the floo at the Three Broomsticks, to my house on Verdant, since my personal portkey’s only go to the Ministry or my ancestral properties.”

“Can’t we use one of the floo’s here?” Ron asked as he took the socks. The boy wiggled his feet out from beneath the blankets and swiftly pulled them on before sliding them back under. Before Harry could answer one of the other boys had spoken.

“For security purposes, only the only fireplaces connected to the floo network are in the medwing, the headmaster’s office, the deputy headmistress’s office, and the House Heads offices and can only go to the Ministry and St. Mungos. All the other fireplaces are on a closed system, and can be used only to access other parts of the castle,” the boy said. “I’m Terry, Terry Boot, my mum works in the Transport Regulations office at the Ministry, it’s how I know.” 

“Nice to meet you Terry,” Harry said. “But basically yeah, I figured a walk and one floo trip vs. two floo trips one after the other was probably best, but since we have to head to St. Mungo’s for your guy’s check up so I can get up to date med records we’ll floo to Hogwarts from there.” 

“Wait we have to go for check ups? I’ve never needed to go to one before, I’ve never been sick in my life!” Ron exclaimed.

“Wait you’ve never had a single check up?” Harry asked, “Ever?”

“No!” Ron said.

“You’re required to have at least one check up within a year of your first year of Hogwarts so that Poppy Pomfrey the school med-witch has records, and you’re required to have one each year until graduation and you’ve never ever had one?” Harry asked. “I was only going to get you all in for a quick check up so that I can file it in my own records, but I’m going to order a full physical,” Harry said sliding off his bed and going to his trunk to dig out his communications box, he had more messages to pass off to his lawyer. 

“Wait why is Ron and his brother’s going with you anyways?” asked another boy. 

“The underage Weasley’s are all currently my Protectorates,” Harry answered as he quilled a message. 

“So they are all under House Potter’s protection?” asked the last boy in the room. 

“Along with Ravenclaw and Peverell, and dependant if the Lord’s of House Slytherin and Black take up their proper roles before I turn thirteen and can petition for incompetency and negligence, possibly those Houses as well,” Harry said. 

“Bloody hell,” said Terry. 

“Anyways you all know my name, and obviously Ron’s, we know Terry’s now but what of the rest of you?” Harry asked, as he set the quickly quilled message into his communications box and tucked it back into his trunk. He sat on the bed as the one of the other boy’s introduced himself. This one was also redheaded but much less vibrantly than Ron, a strawberry blond, with an emphasis on the strawberry.

“I’m Steven Cornfoot,” the boy said with an awkward wave. 

“And I’m Kevin, Kevin Entwhistle,” said the other boy, this one had mousy brown hair and bright chocolate brown eyes, that seemed to be speckled with amber.

Suddenly there was a buzzer sound and Professor Flitwick’s voice could be heard from above as though from an intercom. 

“Ten minutes to lights out for years one through three,” the Professor said. Simultaneously the magical blue white flames in torch sconces that lined the room, dimmed and the heavy drapes slid across the window wall. 

“I still have to brush my teeth,” Harry said sliding back off Ron’s bed. “Does anyone else know where the bathroom is?”

“Up one more level of stairs is the bathroom for years one to three, and then the bathroom for years four to seven is between the floors for year four and year five. We aren’t supposed to use it unless it’s an emergency,” Kevin answered as he Steven and Terry also got off their bed to dig for toiletries. They left the room before Harry who dawdled seeing Ron nervously picking at the coverlet on his bed. 

“Alright there Ron?” Harry asked quietly. 

“I,” the other boy’s voice was thick with tears.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” Ron whispered. “I’ve never had one, I’ve never brushed my teeth before, or gone to a doctor, or done any of that!” His voice grew louder as he spoke. Harry quickly clambered onto the other boy’s bed leaving his toiletries on top of his trunk. Harry wrapped his arms around Ron who seemed unable to hold his tears back any longer at Harry’s kind touch. 

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “I had never brushed my teeth before getting my Hogwarts letter. I think I have a spare toothbrush too. You can use it and I’ll share my tooth paste, I’ll even let you use some of my mouth wash potion. It’s awesome, I always feel like I’m breathing ice after I use it.” Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and the green eyed boy tightened his arms around the other. Harry knew what it felt like to be neglected and forgotten but he hadn’t had parents and his parents hadn’t been the ones at fault. He wondered what kind of parents or perhaps parent as it would seem that Arthur Weasley spent little time at home to busy working himself to the bone to afford feeding and clothing his family, could neglect their own son to this point. Harry knew without a doubt that the money had made it’s way into the Weasley accounts, as the goblins had confirmed the transfer themselves. It was only a matter of where the money had gone after that and the answer was obviously not where it was meant to be going.

As promised Harry lent Ron his spare toothbrush planning on getting the other boy a spare when he bought his own as they shopped tomorrow. It was likely that the other three Weasley’s didn’t have their own either, but perhaps they did. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Percy at least had done small jobs over the summer to save up pocket change in order to purchase missing necessities for himself, the older boy seemed as resourceful and intelligent as Harry himself.

Harry was the first of his dorm-mates to wake. The drapes that covered the windows were still firmly closed and only two of the torch sconces had that blue white magical fake flame burning dimly. Reaching for his wand where he’d set it on the nightstand before going to bed the night before Harry cast a Tempus and seeing the hour was still quite early, it being only shortly after six o’clock in the morning, he did his best to remain as quiet possible. He dug through his trunk gathering up the necessary toiletries, setting up the small wooden basket he’d purchased for carrying them so that he could put it on the bottom shelf of his nightstand rather than back in the trunk when he was done. 

Upon finishing that he dug out an outfit for the day, and gathered his brush and hairpins. He was careful not to let the dorm door shut heavily behind him before he made his way up to the showers that were connected to the bathrooms. The room was eerily quiet, but it made it ever more peaceful to Harry. He’d always awoken early a byproduct to his upbringing, but before his mornings in the Dursley houshold had never been peaceful. 

He took a leisurely shower before drying himself off and casting a gentle drying spell on his hair by running his wand over different sections of it, as well as along the underside. When it was just the slightest bit damp he dressed. Since it was the weekend and he wasn’t going to be in the castle he felt no need to adhere to the school uniform. Instead he pulled on a pair of light blue white wash jeans that were incredibly soft, pairing them with a loose white button up. His hair he swiftly dutch braided back to the top of the back of his head before twisting it around in a high bun and pinning it neatly in place. 

Returning to the room everyone was still asleep. Ron had even turned over onto his back and was now snoring louder than any boy their age had a right to snore. Instead of staying in the room Harry put his shower basket in it’s new home before pulling his contract history and language textbook, along with the notebook he’d been using for his self-study and making his way to the Ravenclaw common rooms where he could read quietly without disturbing anyone. 

It was shortly after seven that Harry saw anyone. The female prefect Harry had spoken to the night before right after dinner made her way into the common room from the opposite staircase that led to the male dorms. She was still in her pajamas, a silk pink and white pajama set, with a pair of chunky eyeglasses she’d not been wearing the night before. She was carrying a bag that Harry could see had a towel peeking out of. Harry was confused did the girls not have bathrooms in their side of the tower?

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, obviously startling the girl who flinched when he spoke. She focused in on him as though seeing him for the first time, which was likely given her obvious surprise at his voice. 

“The prefect’s bathroom, they have baths and I booked it as soon as I got to the castle last night. Why are you up so early? When did you get up?” she answered almost instinctively before her brain began to wake properly enough to ask relevant questions herself. 

“I always get up early, and I had a shower at about quarter after six,” Harry said. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a first year who got out of bed before eight except at Yule,” she said, yawning. “Well I’m going to get to my bath, obviously you know how to stay out of trouble, but me and Brennan Doyle, the other fourth year prefect are in charge of leading all you first years to the Great Hall for breakfast today at nine.” Harry nodded. 

“And your name?” Harry asked. “I never did get it last night.” 

“Penelope, Penelope Clearwater,” she answered before leaving the common room heading in the direction of an obviously much anticipated bath.

By seven thirty Harry had been joined by a few other early risers, either reading in the common room or working on summer assignments that they hadn’t completed. None of those awake though were of his year, and it didn’t look like there were any second years awake either. Nonetheless, when the time reached quarter after eight Harry rose from the comfortable corner of the couch that had been his seat since earlier, closed his book and notes and made his way up to the dorm. None of his year mates were up yet, and though he could do nothing to wake the girls he could wake the boys and ensure they were dressed and showered before the time came for them to go to breakfast. 

He made no attempt to remain quiet as he entered the dorm, unlike his exit earlier. Putting his text and notes away in his shoulder bag, planning on bringing them with him for something to do while he waited on the Weasley’s fitting and med-checks this afternoon, Harry made his way over to the heavy drapes. Knowing that some kind of magic had moved them the night before Harry was unsure as to how to open them, but when he went to pull them open they opened all on their own. 

Kevin and Steven, obviously more awake than the other two groaned in protest at the light that suddenly spilled brightly into the room. Harry paid their protest no mind instead lifting his wand and casting a spell that his house elf had used when he refused to rouse from his bed during his afternoon nap. The floppy eared creature had laughed a creaky little laugh when the first time had found Harry flailing as though trying to escape the loud clambering bells that rang. The spell had a similar effect on the boys in the room, as all four suddenly shot up into sitting positions. Seeing they were all awake Harry cut off the noise. 

“Breakfast is in forty-five minutes, if you want to shower or dress before going I suggest you get up now,” Harry said. 

“Like we have a bleedin’ choice,” Terry muttered as he wiggled his way out from his blankets. Bleary glares were sent Harry’s way but he only grinned brightly in response. A grin that only grew wider when he heard Kevin’s growled whisper.

“Morning people should be buried alive.”

While the four boys got themselves ready for breakfast Harry used the opportunity to do his light stretches as mandated by his doctor-approved regime. He was only allowed to do heavier exercise no more than four times weekly at no longer than two hours at a time, and he saved that for his swordplay. He was pleased to see that Ron was still wearing Harry’s thick socks when the boy thrust his feet into a pair of ratty boots after returning from a shower. 

The five of them waited without speaking until everyone was ready before heading down to the common room, at only ten to eight, the boy’s with the exception of Ron who honestly still looked as though he was sleeping, all glaring at Harry. The girls were already there sitting on the couches.

“Oh!” said Penelope. “I guess you don’t have to go wake them up after all Brennan.” 

“Guess not,” said a blond boy, obviously named Brennan.

“That’s a first,” said an older looking boy. “Did you two do something to scare them into compliance before they went to bed last night?” 

“As if we’d tell the Head Boy that!” Brennan said with faked snootiness.

“Brennan quit teasing Hillard,” Penelope said embarrassedly.

“Told you to call me Robert, now I’m all curious as to what you threatened them with,” the Head Boy said with a flirtatious air. Penelope blushed. 

“Didn’t threaten us with anything,” said Kevin his voice still holding an annoyed growl. “That one,” he continued pointing at Harry whose shit eating grin grew wider, “Woke us all up at half assed o’clock, and is going to find himself smothered to death tonight.” 

“You woke them up when you came down at six?” Penelope’s voice was almost a screech. 

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “I was quiet and came down and read until quarter after eight and then woke them up. But you have a point, had I woke them up at six, Kevin might not still be channeling morning dragon, perhaps I should test that theory tomorrow.” 

“Lord or not,” Terry said his voice completely serious, “If you wake us up at six I will murder you, and I have three room mates who will help me hide your body.” The three including Ron all nodded a confirmation. Harry’s grin didn’t waver.

“So I guess quarter after eight isn’t so bad after all?” Harry asked innocently. The growl that came from Kevin’s mouth almost set Harry into giggles but Penelope saved him. 

“Well since you’re all here lets head to breakfast,” she said. 

By the time breakfast had finished the first year Ravenclaw boys were all in much better spirits and wide awake. It was almost gone ten before Ron and Harry left the table to head back up to the Ravenclaw tower. 

“I have the supplies list for school but I think we should also make a list of things that you need, like a new wardrobe and stuff,” Harry said once he and Ron were safely in the dorms once again. 

“That makes sense,” Ron said sitting cross-legged on his bed. The dorm had obviously been tended to by the house elves in their absence, as the beds were all neatly made and last night’s laundry had disappeared from the hampers. “That way we only have to make one trip and are less likely to forget anything. I was also thinking, I have a rat as a pet, it used to be Percy’s before he went to Hogwarts, but I’d really like a pet that was all my own. I could send the rat home to my mum or maybe let him go, he’s really old so he kinda just sleeps all day.” Something about that sentence struck Harry as odd. 

“Is it a magical rat?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Ron said. “Honestly Percy found him in the garden like two years before he went to Hogwarts and brought him in and begged mum to keep it. Called him Scabbers. I think mum felt bad cause Percy had begged mum for a kitten but she hates cats so…” Ron shrugged. Harry had read about animagi but he’d never seen one in person. He had no idea for sure but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

“Ron can you get your rat for me?” Harry asked. 

“Course,” Ron said reaching underneath his pillow and pulling out a greyish brown rat that squeaked in protest to the jostling before settling back to sleep. Seeing the rat, looking obviously aged Harry bit his lip before deciding to see his suspicion through. It was better to be safe and seen a fool than to be sorry and still a fool he decided. 

“Put your shoes on and bring him with us,” Harry said still not telling Ron what was going on. Though Ron had no idea what Harry was thinking he obviously trusted Harry, obeying without hesitation. Harry knocked on the door of Professor Flitwick’s office attached to the Ravenclaw common room and waited for him and Ron to be called in. 

“Hello boys,” the short Professor said after they entered. 

“Hello Professor Flitwick,” they both greeted Harry a little more tensely than Ron. 

“What can I do for you both today?” the professor asked. “I hadn’t thought to be seeing you until tomorrow.” 

“May we sit?” Harry asked glancing at the rat that seemed to be still sleeping. Harry was taking no chances so as the other two sat Harry reached for the quill that sat on the professors desk, dipped it in the open inkwell and wrote swiftly on a piece of blank parchment showing it to both of them. 

“TALK AS THOUGH EVERYTHING IS FINE” the parchment said. Flitwick nodded though intrigued, Ron looked confused but also willing. 

“How are you both settling in?” Flitwick asked. While Ron answered Harry wrote on the parchment, one eye on the rat in Ron’s lap incase the creature, or perhaps human caught on. 

“NEED CAGE FOR RAT POSSIBLE ANIMAGI” Harry’s next message said though he only showed the message to Flitwick not wanting to scare Ron. The professor looked to Harry in surprise though to his credit only a split second later he was waving his wand a wire kennel cage appearing on the desk. A few more waves and the cage was lightly glowing a dark purple indicating the charms the short wizard had placed on it. Without a word to Ron, Harry swiftly grabbed the rat and dumped it into the cage closing it. The rat squeaked and quite frankly flipped the fuck out. 

“What’s going on?” Ron asked quietly, obviously trying to hold himself back from getting angry at Harry who had literally ripped his pet from his hands. 

“I’m going to floo call McGonagall,” Flitwick said hopping down from his chair, leaving Harry to explain to the firetopped boy what was happening. 

“Non-magical rats only have about a two year lifespan, up to four years if they’re domesticated, but you said that Percy found it, in the garden before he came to Hogwarts, and he’s a fourth year now. If he found it only a few months before school and it was a newly born baby rat it might make sense, but you said Percy had him for two years before so the rat is at least six years old. That’s impossible, unless it’s not actually a rat, or shall I say not just a rat,” Harry said. The redhead still looked confused. Flitwick suddenly moved away from the fireplace he’d had his head in while Harry was talking to Ron and it flared green as the Deputy Headmistress stepped through and looked around before zeroing in on the cage. 

“I’ll cast the spell to reveal if it is an animagus but not the one to reverse the change,” the stern woman said. “If Mr. Potter is indeed correct as you believe him to be Filius then it would be best to have the rat in Auror custody before its identity is forcibly revealed.” The rat seemed to go even more nuts at the professor’s words lending more credence to the possibility of it being more than it seemed. A wave of her wand and a flash of light resonating of the rat and Flitwick were back with his head in the flames. Moments later, three uniformed people were stepping through the grate. 

Conversation was quick and fast paced. Ron was going to have to provide a statement, as was Harry and likely Percy as well, due to the circumstances. Mind-scans would need to be organized on each of the Weasely’s in case of memory tampering or any other such foul play and they didn’t even yet know the rat’s true name. That wouldn’t occur until it was in a special ministry cell designed with animagi in mind. 

Harry organized that the four Weasely’s in Hogwarts would leave to the ministry immediately to give the statements necessary while the Auror’s gathered the other Weasely’s who would join them at St. Mungo’s when they all got scans. It worked well with Harry’s plans to get them their health checks anyways. 

Soon enough they were flooing away from the ministry, still technically in the custody of Auror’s two of which were following, as a copy of their scan results would go directly into Auror custody to ensure that there was no tampering of any kind. 

St. Mungo’s was an interesting place and had gotten no less interesting than the last time Harry had been, when he’d gone shortly after finally getting to respond to his Hogwarts letter. More Auror’s were waiting in the reception area to lead them to a large room that held five more redheads. Though he had a no contact order against Mrs. Weasley, Harry could deal as long as the woman didn’t try and talk to him directly. Harry smiled happily as Ron greeted his two older brothers. Finally after much noise and greeting everyone calmed down and Arthur Weasely made his voice heard. 

“Perhaps now that we’re all here someone can finally tell us what’s going on?” he asked his words obviously directed to one of the Aurors. The Auror’s looked at one another all seemingly unsure as to how to proceed. Finally Harry spoke seeing no one else do so. 

“Perhaps since I was the one who set these events into motion, however unintentionally I should explain?” Harry asked rhetorically before continuing. “As you know your five minor children are considered my protectorates while I am sponsoring their education. Even young Miss Weasley as I have sent funds for her utilization in extracurricular activity despite the fact that she is not currently attending Hogwarts.” The older Weasely’s minus Mrs. Weasely seemed somewhat surprised at that. “Due to apparent circumstances that are being looked into I assure you, the money that I set aside for the four currently in Hogwarts was not utilized to get them supplies and such in order to prepare them for success at their scholastic endeavors.” Harry directed this statement a little more towards the two Weasley parents. 

“Stop,” Mr. Weasley said. “I was under the impression that you were only paying for their education not anything else.” 

“I have already paid in full seven years of education for all five of your minor children, directly to Hogwarts, the money that was transferred to your accounts was meant to outfit them with the necessities as well as any extra’s that they may need for things such as participation on the school quidditch team or summer internships with a sword instructor ect,” Harry answered with a frown on his face. “I did send a letter outlining all of this, perhaps it was waylaid?” Mr. Weasley looked angry for a moment. 

“Well Wife?” he asked his tone brimming with restrained rage. “What say you?” 

“Arthur,” she attempted to cajole. 

“No! Do not take that tone with me!” Arthur shouted. “You lied to my face! You explicitly stated that the money that we received was to pay Hogwarts. Even had the letter Lord Potter sent been misdirected or as he said waylaid, you would have received notice from the school itself that their fees had been paid. However I know that not a knut of that money is still in our accounts so, WHERE DID IT GO?”

“But dad,” the youngest and only female child whined. “How else am I supposed to have pretty dresses and jewels and be beautiful enough to be Lady Potter?”

“And with that I’m going to insist on a mental health check on your youngest daughter as well,” Harry said. “As dastardly as this twist is, it can be dealt with later,” Harry continued trying to calm the Weasely Patriarch down. The man looked as though he could strangle his wife with his bare hands at the moment, and his two eldest sons looked willing to hold her down. “Right as I was saying,” Harry hurried on hoping to draw them all away from the current topic. “Me and your youngest son were sorted into Ravenclaw.” That was met with a high-pitched screech from Mrs. Weasley. 

“You will be resorted!” she shouted. “And Harry! What your parents think? You are meant to be in Gryffindor as well young man.”

“Mr. Weasley, silence your wife or I will do it for you, especially considering the no contact order in place!” Harry said suddenly angry, but it was not Mr. Weasley who moved first rather one of his older sons, the one with burn scars along his arms, who spelled her silent. 

“I will say this once,” Harry said. “Mention what my parents would or wouldn’t have expected of me again, and you will find yourself under as many lawsuits, propagated or not, that I can feasibly throw at you. My parents are dead and they died for my life. What they expected was for me to live, and to live well, if that means that I am in Ravenclaw when they would have thought Gryffindor was a better fit for me then so be it, but they are not here to tell me that themselves and you are not and will never be their replacement. As to your son being in Ravenclaw, perhaps you should be proud that he is not willing to conform to your expectations but reach beyond them.” 

“I agree,” Mr. Weasely said quietly looking at Ron. “It’s not what I expected but as long as you do well and are happy I have no complaints. Now perhaps we should try and continue with no more interruption?” 

“Yes,” Harry said before sighing. “Anyways I arranged for us to come in for supplies today, Ron inquired if he could possibly get a pet and send his rat home since it simply slept because it was old. Upon revealing just how old it was I had him bring it with us to see Professor Flitwick. I was deliberately vague with Ron on exactly what was going because I had no wish to alert the rat if what I suspected was true as I believed it to be.”

“Animagus,” the long haired older Weasley breathed. 

“Exactly,” Harry said. “It was confirmed and I sat in as guardian while Ron and Percy gave their statements to the Auror’s since they had the most prolonged contact with the rat. Due to the investigation on going, they didn’t reveal just who the animagus was after they brought him to the Ministry cells however they insisted on mind-scans for all of you to check if there was any kind of tampering by the rat. After that the four in Hogwarts will be getting their general check ups for the school records and my own. I think it would be best if your youngest also had a check up as well as the mental health assessment that I will insist on before we leave today, that way her records and my own will be up to date.”

“I understand the mind-scan and even the mental health assessment in lieu of what has occurred here today, but can’t you just use their previous check-ups for your records?” Arthur asked. Harry’s eyes widened.

“Mr. Weasley are you telling me you are unaware of the fact that your youngest son has not once had a general check up that he can remember?” Harry asked. 

“Of course he has,” Arthur insisted. “I always work extra overtime in August to afford the costs since Molly insists on having it done at St. Mungos despite the higher cost.” It was at that moment that it seemed to dawn on Mr. Weasley, his face suddenly becoming stony. “How much more?” The woman was still silenced and met the Weasley Patriarch’s glare with a pout. The two Auror’s stationed within the room shifted uneasily not having expected to get caught in the Weasley family breakdown. 

“I don’t say this to embarrass you,” Harry’s words were directed to both Ron and to Arthur. “But Ron had never had a toothbrush before. I understand that you were working overtime in order to meet financial obligations that seem to be misconstrued or non-existent in the first place, that have lead to you not realizing the neglect of your, or at least in this case your youngest son. Though from what I can tell, it’s a neglect of your sons while your wife spoils your daughter far beyond your means.”

“There is much I don’t know it would seem,” Arthur said, and suddenly the weight of everything seemed to hit him as his face lost color and his legs went out from under him. The older Weasley with burn scars caught his father before he hit the ground, and one of the Aurors was quick to begin running a field diagnostic even as the other shouted out the door that they needed a doctor. 

Everything after that was extremely chaotic. Mr. Weasley was being treated for exhaustion and dehydration, with Harry footing the bill, the mind scans had all gone through well enough, whomever the rat was he hadn’t been evil enough to mess with their minds. 

It was however revealed in Ginerva Weasley’s mental health check that she suffered from Obsessive Love Disorder, centralized around Harry, as well as Erotomania. Treatment plans were being formed for both issues under both the authority of Harry and Mr. Weasley and it had already been decided that Ginerva would not be attending Hogwarts but rather Beauxbatons as to not set her treatment back by having her in the same vicinity of her obsession when she went to school. 

Though they had not yet spoken about the waylaid funds, it was still very much a topic in the air. At one point someone had finally removed the silencing spell on Molly Weasley only for three people, Harry, as well as Charlie and William Weasley to cast simultaneously to replace it when her screeches filled the room. 

While the mind scans had gone well enough during the physical scans, there were some issues. Percy had, due to a Vitamin A deficiency developed an eye condition called xerophthalmia. So far his symptoms were mild, dry itchy eyes and a lack of night vision. However the med-witch had found a small lesion that required healing and Percy would be on a potions regime for a week that would fix the deficiency as well as eye drops that had antibiotics to ensure no secondary infection occurred due to the lesion. Harry organized for a dietary plan to be written up for him to follow as well so that the same situation didn’t happen in the future, and Percy admitted to trying to eat less of the meats and vegetables when they were at home so that his younger brothers could have a little more, and instead eating the breads and and pastas which while filling didn’t have the nutrients needed. Apparently Molly Weasley had routinely complained of the prices of poultry and beef and feeding hungry boys in his presence along with various blasé statements about their lack of financial ability that the boy had taken it amongst himself to help the only way he could. 

Fred and George had minor Acoustic Trauma in their ears. Both had freely admitted they’d blown a few things up in the field near their house this summer and had had some difficulties with hearing in both of their left ears. While this injury was not the fault of the Weasley parents it would have been found much sooner had the boys gotten the proper health checks. Thankfully such an injury was a quick fix with magic. 

Ron was last. While he didn’t have any vitamin deficiencies or physical injuries, the med-witch doing the scan had noted that the youngest redheaded boy did have the tendency to self harm when frustrated. Not in noticeable movements but rather things like digging his nails into his thigh when irritated at a cognitive problem, or occasionally hitting himself, not to the degree of damaging himself but hitting himself nonetheless when he felt he’d gotten a question wrong on her mental evaluation check. The med-witch was a half blood and told them that it was unlikely that the Wizarding World would ever make anything of it but perhaps the muggle world would especially since it could be indicative of something more. When testing his eyesight she also caught on to his Dyslexia and gave a confirming diagnoses despite no such disorder being recognized in the Wizarding World. In fact with permission from Arthur and Harry, Ron Weasley was going to the precedence setting case. 

By the time that everything was said and done it had long gone lunch. Harry had gotten the opportunity to meet Charlie Weasley a little more in depth when they had gone out to get lunch for everyone. They’d gone to a quaint little sandwich shop and Charlie had ensured that they’d gotten everyone’s favourite, including Molly’s despite both of their disdain. Harry learned that both Charlie, who worked in a Dragon Reserve in Romania and William or Bill as he preferred who worked for Gringotts Expeditions in Egypt that both been sending money home to their mother to help pay for their brothers expenses knowing that their family was not as well off as others. Neither were very happy that their mother had been spending all the money herself and only daughters wants rather than on the needs of their siblings. 

Harry had also taken the opportunity to arrange for his house elf to purchase the main necessities to smooth their shopping after the scans were finished. Things like trunks, high end parchment, ink and quills, as well as hygiene necessities and any other supplies they'd gotten second hand the first time around had been purchased for each of the four in Hogwarts leaving only the more personalized shopping for later, things like original wands, as Ron, Fred and George were all using wands that had been passed down through the family, clothing, and hobby specific items. 

By the time they’d all returned to Hogwarts shopping completed, several things had officially been set in motion. The first was the breaking of the marriage bond between Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley with a custody hearing to occur on the fourteenth. Harry had convinced Arthur to allow him to front the legal costs, and was lending support to Arthur getting full custody of all of his children. Harry’s lawyer assured both Harry and Arthur it was all but guaranteed given Harry’s support and the evidence of neglect verging on abuse of the underage male Weasley’s at Molly’s hands. 

The second was Ginerva’s treatment plan. For the next two weeks she would be in the involuntary psychiatric admission area of the hospital where she would undergo treatment to help with the obsessions that had become a major part of her psych. She would also have to take anti-psychotic potions for the rest of her life to keep her OLD in check and prevent relapse. 

And finally the third was the trial and retrial of Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black respectively. The rat turned out to be the long believed dead hero of war Peter Pettigrew. His living status along with the fact that he’d hidden as an animagus for so long however threw in flux everything the Wizarding World thought it knew, and that was before his routine questioning under Veritiserum and the dark mark that lay stark on his arm.


End file.
